


The Four Innocents: Red-Blooded Monks

by Azalea542



Series: The Four Innocents [5]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1960's, Alternate Universe - Earth, Gen, Male Friendship, friendship better than romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:18:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea542/pseuds/Azalea542
Summary: Features a story arc, so please read in order! When Timmy is tempted, will his bandmates lose their faith in him?





	1. Away from Home

AWAY FROM HOME

I

Timmy panted, leaning against a neighborhood wall to catch his breath. Earlier that day, he had been working another temporary labor job. Matt had dropped him off, but needed the van to go to his own one day job. Timmy had brought along change for bus fare, but when the time came to go, he discovered no money and a hole in his jeans pocket. There wasn't even a dime to make a phone call with. So Timmy started walking.

It had been dusk when Timmy had finished his job, and now it had been dark for a couple of hours. Timmy knew his friends would be worried about him. He hoped he'd be home soon, not only to ease their fears, but because he was scared of the dangerous people that might be out at this hour. "All the weirdos," he said aloud to himself. "Hey, I'm weird, and I'm out. Maybe I'll be all right." He chuckled nervously.

His legs were weakening, though, and he felt like panicking when he caught sight of some of the other weirdos who were out and about. He was coming up to a tame looking suburb and hoped that this meant safety. Then he realized he recognized the neighborhood.

He walked down Flora Lane, stopping at a house near the middle. He went to the door, hemmed and hawed nervously for a few minutes, then finally rang the bell.

Three tired people answered, a mother, a father, and their blond teenage daughter. "Timmy!" Cindy exclaimed in delight.

"Young man!" cried the father in indignation. "Do you realize what time it is?"

"It's only nine!" Cindy pointed out.

"I'm sorry," Timmy apologized. "But you've got to help me!"

"Come on in, Timmy," Cindy squealed.

Mr. Boyd placed a warning hand in front of the drummer. "Hold it. First tell us what you're doing here."

"Yes," his wife chimed in. "I'd like to know."

Timmy explained about the missing change. "--And it's scary out at this time of night," he added. "Some guys who looked like muggers were sizing me up. I'm just about to freak out."

"Let him in Daddy, please!" Cindy pleaded. "He's a good boy. We used to date a couple of years ago and he never made a move on me."

"Oh, all right, young man, come in and get a hold of yourself, for Pete's sake."

Cindy led the weary boy inside. "Thanks, Daddy."

Matt answered the phone. "Timmy! Thank goodness, we were worried sick about you. Where are you, man?"

"At an old schoolmate's house."

"Look, give me the address and I'll be right over."

"It's after curfew--"

"Timmy, I'm eighteen now. I can be out."

Mrs. Boyd was listening in. "He doesn't have to trouble himself. Tell him we'll put you up for the night, and he can pick you up in the morning."

Timmy and his hosts talked awhile before going to bed. Timmy told what he had done on his assignment that day. "Mostly just cleaning up."

"How about getting a steady job?" Mr. Boyd wondered.

"That's just it. We can't find one."

"What do you mean, we?"

"You know--the band!" Timmy demonstrated by tapping out a drum solo on the coffee table.

"Oh, yes, the band," Mr. Boyd said tiredly. "But isn't that just a hobby? Something you do in your spare time?"

"Hey, plenty of people earn their full time living as musicians."

"Mmm-hmmm." Mr. Boyd sounded cynical. Timmy felt like he was being sized up and rejected as a potential husband for Cindy, even though he had no intention of marrying.

"Well, you don't think the Consorts have to take up side jobs, do you, Daddy?" Cindy pointed out.

"Isn't there something at the store that Timmy could do?" Mrs. Boyd asked.

"Well, we have a position open for a stock clerk."

"What are the qualifications?" Timmy wondered.

"Be willing to work."

"The way we've been living lately, believe me, I'm willing to work."

"I'll ask about you tomorrow at work," Mr. Boyd promised.

II

In his day clothes—a dashiki and jeans--Timmy slept on the couch that night. He had breakfast with the Boyds, then Mr. Boyd went off to the department store he worked at, and Mrs. Boyd went to the library, where she was a volunteer. Cindy had to get ready to go to morning classes at college. Timmy, not used to getting up this early, decided to go back to sleep while waiting for Matt. 

He was just beginning to doze off when Cindy shook him awake. "I thought you already got up, Timmy darling," she teased.

"I'm not a morning person," he explained, punctuating his statement with a yawn.

As if it were an original thought, she remarked, "The two of us are here alone, you know."

"Yeah, alone. Don't get any ideas; you know how I am." Timmy turned his face to the wall and tried to get back into the pleasant state of semi-consciousness.

"Oh, come on, Timmy, this is the sixties."

"It won't always be."

"Give in a little."

"Knock it off. I'm tired."

"That's no way to treat the girl who took you in!" she chided, sitting down on the couch arm. Timmy sat up in alarm, and she moved over beside him, much to his dismay. "You're so cute when you're frightened," she remarked, as she subtly slipped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

"What do you want with me, Cindy?" he blurted. "Look, you want me back as your boyfriend? I'll take you out as soon as I have some money."

"Why go out? We can have fun right here."

"You're right. We can. Wanna watch TV?" She shook her head. "Play a game?" No again. "Talk about life?" 

"You know what I want," she growled. "I want to play with you." She pulled him down on top of her.

"Cindy, no, please!" he protested to her kisses. "I think I hear somebody coming."

"Don't try to trick me," she said.

Timmy yanked himself out of her arms, but pulled a bit too hard, for he tumbled off the couch and onto the floor, and she landed on top of him, giggling. "This way's okay, too," she said.

"Don't you hear the footsteps?" Timmy demanded. Then they both heard the noise of a hand on the doorknob. 

"Daddy!" Cindy yelped, leaping up. Timmy picked himself up the floor. They had not gotten up fast enough, however, for Mr. Boyd to figure out that something had been going on.

Roughly, he grabbed Timmy's shoulder, and pointed towards the door. "Out you go," he ordered.

"I wasn't doing anything to her, honest."

"Oh, I suppose she came on to you?" he asked, in a way that made it clear he would refuse to believe any accusations against his little girl.

Cindy was scared her father would find out she wasn't all sweetness and innocence. "Daddy, he wanted to...to make out with me!"

"Cindy!" Timmy cried, betrayed. "I wanted no such thing and you know it!"

"OUT!" Mr. Boyd ordered again. "And you can forget the job."

"Daddy, wait, uh, like can't we talk this over?" Cindy asked bravely. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I forgot some important papers," Mr. Boyd explained tersely. "Out, young man. I don't want you hanging around here after I'm gone again."

"All right," Timmy mumbled, walking out the door. "Well, thanks for everything. Maybe someday you'll understand." "Understand what?" Mr. Boyd wondered as he closed the door.

"Maybe someday you'll understand," Cindy mysteriously repeated in answer.

"What's there to understand? He had lipstick all over his--" Mentally reprimanding himself, Mr. Boyd realized that even if Timmy had made the first move, it had not been on an unwilling partner. "Cindy!"

Out on the main road, Timmy resumed last night's journey. Fortunately, he didn't have far to go, for the psychedelic van passed him a few minutes after he had started walking. Matt turned the vehicle around and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Am I glad to see you!" Timmy exclaimed, climbing into the passenger seat. "Hi", he said to Patrick and Danny, who were sitting in the back.

"What were you doing out there?" Patrick wondered.

"Yeah, I thought you were waiting at Cindy's house," Danny added.

"You know how fathers are," Timmy said. "He was afraid **I** would make some kind of move on her."

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, but it's good you got out of there anyway. You know how Cindy is." 

Patrick glanced at his watch. “We just made it.”  
“Made it what?” Timmy asked, confused.

“We didn’t go twenty-four hours without seeing each other. We’ve never gone twenty-four hours apart since moving in together.”

“Well, that’s cool,” Timmy remarked.

“We should make it a pact,” Danny stated. “Let us never be a day apart—or who knows what’ll happen to us!”


	2. Oasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by The Monkees episode "Wild Monkees" by Stanley Ralph Ross and Corey Upton.

OASIS

The Four Innocents were not alone. Every Monday on television, a show aired about four bandmates who lived together in a house by the beach and who were the best of friends. There was only one difference in this eerie band—they eagerly chased after girls.

“Well, at least they don’t sleep with them,” Patrick pointed out. 

“Are you sure?” Timmy asked with concern.

“Yeah,” Danny affirmed. “All the girls they date are too sweet to sleep around.”

“You know, Bobby’s married,” Matt pointed out. “His wife’s name is Sue.”

“But that’s real life Bobby,” Danny argued. The characters and actors on the show had the same names. “I mean, where does TV character Bobby keep his wife? In the attic?”

“Point conceded,” Matt said.

“Do you suppose the Jesters—I mean, the real ones—are the bestest of friends like us?” Patrick wondered.

“They were cast together. Four strangers,” Timmy pointed out. “I doubt it. They’ll probably break up someday.”

I

"What do you mean, you can't pay the rent?" the landlord demanded.

"Well, Mr. Garvey, I'm sorry, but we haven't been able to get

a good gig this month," Matt replied. "I mean, we've been trying really hard and all.."

"Why don't you get a real job?" the man asked unsympathetically.

"We've been looking for other work on the side, too," Danny

told him. "But nothing lasted."

"You boys are real losers," Garvey remarked. "You know I have every right to kick you out on the street."

The Four Innocents did not reply.

"And I **would** do that, too," he continued. "Except that my

cousin, Drake Brockley, needs help clearing his land and helping out with renovations."

The boys, still not catching his drift, waited for him to

continue.

"He has--" He pretended to think hard. "Oh, I'd say about four positions available."

"Oh, really?" the four asked, catching on.

"Now, you boys have a choice. Either you can live out on the

street, or you can stay at his place for awhile, and work off your debt."

Matt looked at his bandmates. "Do we have any real choice?"

II

Oasis was a dusty little town, for it had mostly all dirt

roads. Its ramshackle wooden buildings looked like a leftover set from a canceled western series. Few people were outside. Those that were were old men sitting on porch chairs, staring ahead at apparently nothing.

The Four Innocents pulled up in front of the general store and looked around at their new home.

"I'm glad this is only temporary," Timmy remarked.

"I don't like it," Patrick commented.

"Well, I dunno, it kinda reminds me of home," Matt said. "We'll just take it one day at a time, fellas," Danny

suggested.

A truck pulled up, and a man who looked a lot like Mr. Garvey rolled down the window. "You the boys my cousin sent?"

"The Four Innocents," Matt said. "Come to work in your grove."

"Hop in back." Mr. Brockley yanked a thumb back in the direction on the roofless truck bed. The boys clambered in.

The next day, they were sweating out under the sun, a blaring radio providing some relief for morale. Timmy, Patrick, and Danny dragged logs away. Mr. Brockley and Matt chopped down dead, pathetic excuses for trees.

Never let it be said that the Four Innocents were ugly or plain, and that is why they were celibate—because they couldn’t attract chicks. The Four Innocents were gorgeous creatures, veritable works of art.

Matt had all the dignity and beauty of the American Indian, and dark, soul-searching eyes, a look tempered by a white teen idol sense to his face. He was the Native American gone pop.

Timmy was cute, but when you looked beyond that, Timmy was warm. His eyes mirrored the California surf, and his smile was as sunny as summer. His hair was wild, true, but luxurious in its excess.

With his golden hair, Patrick was an angel descended upon earth. With his wide, sensitive eyes, he was a fawn, cuddly and fragile.

Danny was tiny all around, there was no getting around that. But his long, brown hair was silky, and his eyes were kind, and his heart-shaped face simply adorable.

As the Four Innocents were currently employed in heavy labor, they wore jeans and no shirts. And they looked good. True, they did not have big, bulking muscles, but Matt’s exercise program had made them well-toned and wiry, their builds similar to those of a basketball player. Matt’s chest was hairy. Patrick’s had a light layer of fuzz. Timmy had a few long hairs around his belly button, but he, like Danny, had a chest otherwise practically devoid of hair.

The sight of the four latter-day Adonises carrying about bare-chested was enough to make three motorcycle-bound females squeal to a stop and circle back.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” a young lady with short blonde hair asked.

“Um, hello,” Matt mumbled shyly. Timmy and Patrick stood by at a close distance.

“Do you ladies need anything?” Danny wondered, wandering up to them.

“Do we need anything, I’ll say!” a redhead with cropped hair answered in a deep voice. “When Reba saw you four here, she nearly flew off her motorcycle!”

“Um, we-we’re not for sale,” Matt said dumbly.

“Don’t be silly, we have boyfriends—and a husband,” the first blonde said. “By the way, I’m Reba. The redhead is Dru and the girl with the auburn hair is Sue—she’s the married one.”

“I’m Danny, that’s Matt, back there is Timmy and Patrick.”

“Where are your boyfriends?” Timmy asked, still feeling like the girls were prodding him with their eyes.

“Oh, they’ll be here soon,” Reba replied.

“I see them coming!” Sue exclaimed.

Soon four more motorcycles drew near. There were four male figures, one with a female riding tandem. Helmets covered their faces. The four men took off their helmets to reveal—the Jesters! Billy, Bobby, Donny, and Ricky. There was no mistaking them.

“Hey, you’re the—!” Danny began.

“Yep, we’re ‘the’, all right,” Ricky “Snappy” Hogan, known for his snap-brim cap as well as one-liners, snapped. “Sorry, but we don’t do the theme song on request.”

“Although I can perform ‘No Chains on Me’ anyday,” tall Donny said in his pleasant North England accent. ‘Sorry, baby, no chains on me/Sorry, darling, I’ve got to be free.’”

“Cool it,” Billy interrupted. “We heard that enough on tour.” Billy was a blond Texan known for his short height—though he still stood much taller than Danny.

“What are you doing here?” Danny wondered.

“We’re filming an episode here,” Bobby spoke, mindlessly twirling his goatee with a finger. “The crew will be along in a bit. Sue, stop ogling those boys and let’s check in.”

The female figure who had been riding with Donny dismounted, her helmet still on. She strode towards the Four Innocents, stopping in front of Matt. The bandmates were in for yet another surprise that day—she took off her helmet and shook back her hair—“Matt!”

“Doreen!” It was Doreen Latimer, the TV actress Matt had saved from suicide and an immoral affair. “Oh, don’t hug me! I’m all sweaty!”

She grinned. “You’re looking good, Matt. You and your bandmates.”

“Don’t tell me you know these blokes?” Donny demanded of Doreen.

“It’s a small world,” quipped Bobby.

Mr. Brockley exited the hotel and stood on its porch. “All right, boys, you’re off the hard labor for now. I need you to help me move these people into their rooms.”

“Um, can’t we shower and change into something more suitable first?” Matt questioned.

“No time for that. Let’s get movin’.”

“Okay, but whoever heard of topless bellhops?”

“We find it rather charming,” Reba cracked, and the other three girls giggled.

“Oh, puh-leeze!” Bobby exclaimed, his hand held to his forehead.

The Jesters and their women were seated around two tables, two boys and two girls to each table. The Four Innocents served them dinner.

“The episode we’re filming is called ‘Wild Jesters’,” Billy Palmer stated. “It’s by Cosmo Bronson.”

“Or _was_ by,” Bobby quipped. “When we get through with it, it’ll be written more by our ad-libbing than what was on the page.”

“It’s about our TV characters and what happens when they meet a gang of motorcycle mamas,” Donny explained. “We’re using our real girls to play the mamas.”

“We’re doing something completely different for this episode,” Snappy picked up. “There’s gonna be no dialogue, almost. Except for Doreen’s character, she has a few lines of exposition.”

Doreen blushed and looked down at her steak. “It’s in my contract. I’m not actually playing a motorcycle mama. I’m a school teacher.”

“A school teacher?” Matt asked, grinning. “No kidding.” That’s what Miss Latimer used to play on the _Lawless Town_ western.

“It is a tip of the hat to my old series,” Doreen admitted.

“I don’t have to play Mister Naïve Innocent in this episode so much,” Bobby said proudly. His TV character, though a scientific whiz kid who had invented a time machine and a shrinking potion, was notoriously naïve in matters of romance and common sense. And who to trust—he was constantly prayed upon by con men. “I mean, c’mon—nobody’s _that_ innocent.”

“Patrick here is,” Timmy said eagerly.

“Yeah, he could put the TV Bobby to shame,” Danny joined in.

“As a matter of fact, you could say they’re all innocent,” Doreen explained. The Jesters and the three other girls looked at her curiously. “Matt, tell ‘em!”

“We’re the Four Innocents,” Matt announced. “It’s our band name.”

III

With four girls, eight guys, and Mr. Brockley around, it was a wonder any couple got to be alone. But in a hallway, Doreen managed to stalk her prey, but it wasn’t Donny. Not this time.

She stood leaning against a doorframe, the suddenly pushed him against the other side. Husky-voiced, she breathed, “Matt, I want you.”

“Doreen, please, we’ve been through this before,” Matt said as gently as possible.

“You’re old enough now, aren’t you? You can’t be a minor forever.”

“Well, actually, I’m eigh--That’s not the point!”

“Yes, eighteen at last! The age of consent!” She ran a hand up the front of his chest. “I’ve had dreams about you. You want to hear them?”

“I think I’ll pass.” If he listened, Matt knew he would not fail to be aroused..even more so than he already was.

She continued regardless of his wishes. “I see you and me, on the beach in back of your house. The other fellas are out. We go in your guest bedroom and—”

“Doreen, please! Quit it!”

“—We make love,” she whispered, trembling.

Matt ran his fingers through a strand of her hair. His gaze met hers. Her eyes were wide and pleading. The two leaned closer for a kiss—

\--Then Doreen found herself kissing the back of his turquoise ring. He had put his hand up to stop her.

“Doreen, please! It’s not my style. Can’t you respect that?”

“Matt, I can make you a man!” Doreen tried.

“You already see me as a man or you wouldn’t be so turned on.” He attempted another angle. “Look, think about what you’re doing to Donny.”

“He’s been with other women before—I mean, besides me.”

“But you and him got a chance at a legitimate and loving relationship.”

“You think so?” she asked tentatively.

Matt nodded. “Trust me. Don’t you want to at least _try_ to make it work?”

“Oh-okay.”

“Good.” Matt relaxed his grip on Doreen’s wrists and went on his way.

IV

It wasn’t the only Innocent incident.

Sue stepped into the lobby where Patrick was vacuuming. She yanked out the appliance plug. Patrick tried for a second or two to continue to vacuum, then looked up. Sue pulled the tube away from him and wrapped it, boa-like, around her neck and shoulders. “Patrick, why do they call you innocent?”

“We try to be innocent,” he answered simply.

“And you are the most innocent of them all, aren’t you?”

Patrick shrugged modestly.

“I’ll prove it. Patrick, what’s foreplay?”

Patrick thought. “Mmm, when the four of us are in concert? Or maybe when we play on the beach?”

“Not exactly.” She asked him the meaning of another bizarre sounding word.

“Is that some kind of pasta?”

Sue giggled. “You really _are_ innocent. Bobby only plays innocent on TV.”

“He’s not innocent, not at all?” Patrick tried to ascertain.

Sue thought. “Well¼when you get him talking about or workin’ on cars, he gets like a big-eyed little kid again. I guess that’s a little bit innocent.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But you know, everyone’s a little innocent. We still all have a kid in us.”

“But it’s not like what you got! You’re permeated with innocence! Just once, let me kiss the face of pure innocence.” She leaned her willowy frame closer.

“Bobby!” Patrick blurted, backing away. “I mean, Sue! You’re a married woman!”

“Oh, come on, a kiss don’t mean nothing! It’s not gonna hurt you.” 

He backed into a wall. “Perfect,” purred Sue, placing her arms on either side of him. She stole a long kiss from his trembling lips.

“Sue! What are you doing?” a new voice demanded.

“Bobby! Bobby, wait! It didn’t mean anything, really! It was just for fun!”

Patrick watched Sue chase Bobby out onto the porch. He fingered his burning lips thoughtfully. _I hope I never become a teen idol—I mean, I hope we become famous, but_ _¼_ _All those lovesick girls!_

He followed the noise of the married couple’s arguing. They had carried it onto the outdoor set where the other three Jesters watched on incredulously. “Bobby, really you kiss other girls all the time on the show!”

“That’s show biz! Besides, my character doesn’t get the girl often.”

“What about the ‘Jesters in Paris’ episode? You all were kissing girl after girl then, like it was a freakin’ orgy!”

Bobby held his hand out entreatingly. “It’s all part of my job, baby. It don’t mean nothing.”

“Well, I didn’t mean anything either.” She pointed at Patrick. “I’m not in love with him. I just wondered what it was like to kiss an angel.”

“Ooh, Angel’s getting a little action!” Snappy taunted from the sidelines.

Patrick blushed and tried to hide behind a porch post.

“How about I won’t kiss any other boys,” Sue decided. “And you tell me in advance whenever the show requires you kiss a girl?”

“I’m ready to give us a serious try,” Doreen said to Donny. “Maybe we will make it, maybe we won’t, but I’ll give it a go for all I’m worth.”

“I promise I won’t hit on other boys,” Dru told Snappy.

“I won’t try to get other boys drunk,” Reba announced to Billy.

Matt gathered his bandmates aside to give them an observation. “You see, chicks may be attracted to us, but they’ll always go with the heterosexual guy in the end.”

“Why is that?” Patrick wondered naively.

“They can give the girls something we can’t.”

“I’ll just bet,” Danny quipped snidely.

“And what’s that?” Patrick continued.

Danny and Timmy glanced at him worriedly.

V

The Jesters were all packed up and ready to leave when four new motorcycles pulled up before the Oasis Inn.

The Four Innocents watched on curiously. “Now who can _that_ be?” Danny wondered. The Jesters also hesitated to leave.

The four newcomers pulled off their helmets to reveal—Jimmy, Pete, Gene, and Tom-Tom. The Consorts!

Every member of the other quartets stood there, mouth agape.

Finally, Ricky ran before them and threw himself prostrate on the dusty ground. “Hail, Consorts, to whom we owe our very existence!”

“There’ll be none of that now,” Jimmy Larsen said casually. “We think you blokes are the greatest boon to comedy since the Lenin Brothers.” 

Ricky stood up and dusted himself off. “Really? Did you know we were here?”

“No,” Pete began.

“Strictly coincidental,” Tom-Tom broke in. 

“We’re just trying to find a nice, quiet place to get away from it all,” Pete continued. “One without any—”

The Jesters’ girls caught sight of the Consorts and squealed and screamed.

“—Fanatical females.”

“And you thought our time here would be dull,” Danny remarked to Matt. He then sauntered up to the Consorts. “Hey, fellas, remember me? 1964, the dressing room¼?”

“Oh, it’s the little shrimp who wanted an autograph for his sister,” Pete recognized.

“The little autograph burglar,” Tom-Tom joined in.

“I’m part of my own quartet now,” Danny announced proudly, choosing to ignore the height barbs.

“Four groups of four people,” Matt remarked to Timmy and Patrick.

“Us, the Jesters, the Consorts, that’s three groups,” Patrick said confusedly.

“And the Jesters’ girlfriends.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what four times four equals¼”

“Eight?”

“A whole lot of trouble,” Timmy answered.

The Jesters and their girls had hung out a big longer with the arrival of the Consorts. The Jesters and the Consorts had talked and laughed and jammed and drank some liquor and beer, smoked a little pot. The Four Innocents couldn’t get in on the camaraderie as much as they originally hoped, feeling alienated by the drug and alcohol use, and the other males’ obviously heterosexual natures. Still, they were grateful for the opportunity to have met the two famous bands.

And in a jam session, they discovered the Jesters really could play their own instruments!


	3. Sea Dues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short story was inspired by The Monkees episode "Hitting the High Seas" by Jack Winter.

SEA DUES

I

"Cute little ship, isn't it?" Matt remarked, holding a hand to his aching head.

"Yeah," Timmy moaned, also feeling queasy on the waves.

"How soon do you think it'll take to get used to this?" Danny asked drearily.

"Oh, I'd say we'll have our sea legs by the end of the day," Matt said wryly.

Danny grinned. "Yeah, too bad this is a one day cruise."

"What do you mean, too bad?" Timmy wondered.

"I thought you guys were looking forward to this gig," Patrick said, unperturbed by nausea. "It sure was nice for the Wellingtons to start putting us on their casino ships."

"Yes, I know," Danny agreed. "We sure could use the money, and the change of scenery. But for now I'll go see if I can find those seasickness pills."

Many crew members were performing duties and carrying on conversations while Danny staggered about, wondering whether to search until he found the pills himself or to simply ask someone.

"Excuse me, sir," he said to a crew member, whose name tag read "Jonas". "Do you happen to have any pills for seasickness?"

"Now, why would you want to take pills to get seasick?" the man joked.

Danny would have laughed louder and perhaps played along had he not been feeling so ill. "No, no, you know--"

"Sure, kid. Come in here." Danny noticed that although from the outside, the party boat Sea Dog looked like an old pirate ship, this room had modern equipment. He saw a bottle on a shelf. "Are those the pills? Doesn't look like there's any in there."

Jonas took the bottle in hand. "Nope. Only two left. I

think Captain Havelock might have some more, though."

"The captain gets seasick a lot?"

"Oh, Captain Havelock's the character captain, the one dressed up as a pirate. The real captain's invulnerable to pain of any kind."

"All right, sir. Thanks."

"Jonas."

"All right, Jonas sir, thanks." Bottle in hand, Danny

returned to the bandstand as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him. "Hey, fellas. I got a bottle of seasick pills, but there's only two left."

Matt took the bottle and emptied its contents into his hand. "You take one, Danny, since you went to the trouble of getting them. Here, Timmy, you take the other one."

"What about you?" Timmy asked.

"Oh, I'm feeling a little better now. I'll take one later if I'm still feeling ill."

II

"Captain?" Danny asked, tapping a costumed figure on the shoulder. On the actor's other shoulder was an African grey parrot.

"What is it, lad?" the bearded man replied gruffly.

"Hello," the bird greeted.

"Hello," Danny returned. "Do you have any seasickness pills, sir? I was told you might have."

Captain Havelock winked. "Oh, so someone referred you to me, eh?"

Danny shrugged. "Sure."

"Bad," said the bird.

"Shut up, Squawker!" Havelock chided.

Danny explained, "You see, sir, one of my mates was feeling a bit queasy. Would it be too much to ask for one, if it isn't any trouble?" 

"Seasick already, eh? Well‑‑" he chuckled. "He's in for a trip, isn't he?"

"We all got seasick, sir," Danny said, taking the two pills

the captain pulled out of his pocket. "Except for Patrick. Who knows why? With these kind of pills, do you need to take two instead of one? Or is this for later?"

"Have him take two at once," Havelock suggested.

"All right. Thanks, captain."

"Hey, Matt, you feeling all right?" Danny asked.

"Oh, so so," Matt shrugged. "A bit nauseous, but it's not

unbearable."

"Well, you might as well take these." Danny gave Matt the

pills. "He said take both at once."

Timmy looked at his watch. "Hey, you know, it's just about

time for us to start playing."

III

Matt sighed, resting his weight on a hand he leaned against a mast. He blinked. His head seemed to spin. When he looked up, everything was in two shades: purple and black. The purple formed cartoon outlines of people and objects against a black background. Somehow Matt didn’t consider that so unusual. 

Nor did he consider it unusual that standing before him, leaning against the mast, was an imaginary girl come to life. Serendipity. Besides Delilah, she was the other made-up female who habituated his sexual fantasies. Delilah was older, aggressive, a bit jaded, but Serendipity was always young and sweet, and let Matt think he had made the first move.

Serendipity smiled.

Matt drew his face near her lips.

"Matt's been acting kind of weird today," Timmy remarked to Patrick. "I mean, ever since after the first show."

"We're all weird. Everybody says so."

"I know. But Matt just doesn't quite seem himself."

They stared silently out to sea for a moment, then Patrick looked around. He tapped Timmy on the shoulder. “Timmy?”

“What?”

“Why is Matt kissing the mast?”

“What did you say?” Timmy blurted, confused.

Patrick pointed.

“Oh,” said Timmy, now more confused. “Well, I, uh, I guess he finds the mast attractive.”

Matt grew restless kissing Serendipity. What he really wanted was not sex, but innocence. He turned away. She vanished.

Then Matt found himself looking down at Super Puppy, the popular TV cartoon dog of the 1950’s. A childhood favorite of Timmy’s, if he remembered. The adorable puppy looked up at him, smiling, his tongue hanging out. “Hi! I’m Super Puppy!”

“Hi, Super Puppy! I’m Matt Winward.”

“I _know_ you’re Matt Winward,” the dog said, sounding uncharacteristically like his patience had been tried.

“Where’s Pretty Kitty?” Matt asked.

“Matt, c’mon, something’s happened to you. Something’s happened to your mind.” Super Puppy grabbed his hand. It was Super Puppy, wasn’t it? Suddenly, it dawned on Matt that Timmy was standing there, holding his hand, trying to lead him away.

“Timmy, what’s going on?” Matt demanded worriedly. “Why am I seeing cartoon characters and figments of my imagination?”

“I think somebody doped you up. Let’s get you below deck.”

Patrick joined them. “Is he okay?”

“He mistook me for Super Puppy,” Timmy answered.

Matt pointed at Patrick. “Oh, look, Mommy, a deer!”

“Why are people always calling me that?” Patrick wondered.

They found Danny, who grimly took charge of the situation. He grabbed one arm and Timmy took hold of their bandleader’s other arm. “I can walk myself, you know,” Matt stated.

“I prefer to keep hold of ya just now, Matt,” Danny explained. “The sea out there is blue—not rainbow colored, like a puddle of oil, like you said.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Matt agreed. “It just looked it at the time, you know. This’ll pass, fellas, really!”

Patrick was behind them, and suddenly the rocking of the ship caused him to stumble, nearly knocking over Matt. “Hey, watch it, you big lummox!” Matt snapped.

“Well, he graduated from deer,” Timmy observed casually, then saw water welling up in Patrick’s eyes. “Aw, don’t worry, Pat, he didn’t mean it.”

“What’s a lummox?” Patrick asked through tears.

Matt awoke. He lay still for a minutes on end, not quite able to send a message from his brain to his legs to get up. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. He remembered Patrick. He had upset Patrick somehow. He had been mean.

Finally, with a sigh, Matt heaved himself to his feet and walked out of the cabin. Everything looked normal. No visions of purple on black. Good.

Patrick was standing at the railing, staring out to sea. Matt silently came up behind him. Patrick was unaware of his presence..or just wasn’t acknowledging it. Matt warily placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Patrick gave a start. _I guess he just didn’t realize I was here._

“Hey, um, I don’t remember everything all that clearly, but I remember you crying because of something I did or said.”

“You weren’t yourself, Matthew,” Patrick said simply, turning around to face his bandleader.

“Yeah, well, I should’ve..I still..” He sighed in frustration with his inability to express himself. “I love you, Patrick, you know that, don’t you?”

Patrick hugged him. “Yes, I know, Matthew. I love you, too.”

They held each other for a moment, then Matt began to cry on Patrick’s shoulder. “Matt, no, it’s not your fault. You weren’t yourself.”

“I know, Patrick! They raped my mind! Don’t you see? I won’t ever be the same again.”

“It will wear off.”

“No, Patrick—the hippies don’t tell you, but it never wears off completely.”

Patrick let go of Matt. “Never?”

Matt wiped a tear from his eye. “No.”

“But surely you’ll be able to live. Day to day. Normally.”

“Oh, I’ll still have a life. But every once in awhile..every once in awhile, the colors will come back. Not to mention I might have to fight off being addicted.”

“Just once—just one time—and you’re addicted?”

Matt nodded absent-mindedly, wiping sweat from his brow. His pallor had become gray. Suddenly, he fell. Fortunately, Patrick caught him. “Danny! Timmy!” he yelled frantically. “Matt passed out!”

They brought Matt back to the cabin. “Is he supposed to react this way?” Patrick asked worriedly.

“I don’t think so,” Danny replied grimly.

“I’m afraid he’s having what they call a ‘bad trip,’” Timmy explained further.

When they arrived back at the port, Patrick practically had to carry Matt on shore. The police were there to question Havelock.

"Are you sure you're gonna be all right, Matt?" Danny asked.

"You know, the Wellingtons told us they'd cover any medical costs incurred on these gigs."

"We just got on shore!" Matt cried. "At least wait until we get home and I get some proper rest in my own bed. It may be more seasickness than anything else."

"I don't know, man, those pills..." Danny warned.

"If I'm still sick tomorrow, then I'll let you do something about it."

"Okay, Matt…,” Danny let the matter drop.

“Bye bye,” said Squawker.


	4. How to Win Your Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by The Monkees episode "99 Pound Weakling" by Gerald Gardner, Dee Caruso, and Neil Burstyn.

HOW TO WIN YOUR MAN

I

Matt had to get off his feet, and collapsed upon the sectional. He knew it wasn't seasickness that was bothering him, for yesterday was over and he had been home for many hours now.

"Matt, you need to see a doctor!" Timmy was protesting.

"We don't have the money," Matt heard himself say.

"Isn't there any in that insurance account you started?"

"Well, yeah, but we can't be spending it on every little cold."

"Matt, I don't think that this is a cold." Timmy came up to him, staring into his face. "You're so pale! Lie down, get some rest." He pushed forcefully upon Matt's chest, so his bandleader obliged him and lay down. It felt better, he had to agree.

Timmy placed his hand upon Matt's forehead, and drew it away sharply, licking his fingers. "Ouch, man! I burned myself. I don't care what you say, you need to see the doctor." Matt made a half‑hearted gesture of waving this suggestion aside. "Oh, get off it, you do! Maybe you think it'll just go away, but what if it doesn't? What are we going to do without our bandleader?" Timmy sighed. "I'm going out to get Danny and Patrick."

Matt heard him exit. He tried to relax. An unconsciousness more powerful than sleep overtook him.

Out on the beach, Timmy saw that Danny and Patrick, who had gone out for a walk, were some distance down the beach. He waved to them frantically, and ran towards them. Their faces became anxious and they raced to meet him half-way. Joining them, Timmy panted, "Matt..Matt..He's..."

"Is he all right?" Danny demanded.

"Well, he's not doing that great. He's sweaty and feverish and all. I think we better take him to the doctor's office for a checkup."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "I wish he would have let us bring him last night." The three went inside the house.

"Matt, how you doing?" Danny asked, as Timmy retrieved the phone book. No answer from Matt.

"I guess he's sleeping," Patrick offered.

"Yeah." Danny shook Matt's shoulders. "Matt, I'm sorry to disturb ya, but we're gonna drive you down to the doctor's, okay? Come on, Matt, wake up!"

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked worriedly.

"I can't wake him," Danny replied, shaking Matt's shoulders more vigorously. "Nope," Danny stated somberly. "He's out cold."

"Gee, you don't think he's gone into a coma?" Timmy asked,

holding the phone to his ear, preparing to dial.

"Call the hospital, not the doctor's," Danny told him simply. He knelt down by his unresponsive bandleader. "Matt, you idiot, why didn't you get help when we told you to?"

II

Down at the hospital, they said Matt was suffering from a drug overdose, and chided the bandmembers for being typical young hippies. “You boys better stop doing drugs.”

“We don’t do drugs,” Danny explained.

The doctor looked sternly at them for a moment, but they didn’t budge. “Okay, boys,” he said finally. “I’ll play along with your game. You don’t do drugs. But if the temptation arises—don’t start doing drugs.”

“Yes, sir,” Danny, Timmy, and Patrick said in unison.

When Mr. Wellington and his daughter Monica arrived, they were able to explain about how Matt had taken the pills by accident, and to arrange for medical costs to be taken care of.

Still, to be on the safe side, Danny had recommended Patrick take a permanent position he had been offered, to work at until Matt had sufficiently recovered. Danny, though now unofficially acting as bandleader, spent most of his time moping, drained of his usual spark.

Tuesday, with Patrick having left for his job, and Danny just skulking about, Timmy went out the back door and walked down the coast line, not knowing what he was looking for.

Then he saw her. He knew he remembered that face. The buxom bikini-clad blond looked up and smiled as she waved at him. "Timmy!"

He raised his hand hesitantly, thinking back. "Beatrix!" he realized at last. "Shouldn't you be heading back to college?"

"I'm going to go to school here now," she explained. "I don't live far from where you do. I was hoping I'd run into you soon." She gestured at her beach blanket. "Here, sit down."

Timmy did, and she offered him the choice of any snack or beverage in her basket. "So what's going on with you?" she asked.

Timmy explained about how they were all worried about Matt, and she sympathized. He asked her what she was up to these days.

"Dina and Marge and I all decided to make the move together," she told him concerning her transfer. "We all loved it last year when we were here on Spring Break, and we were getting tired of northern winters. You ever try getting to class on time by running up some icy stairs?"

"No," Timmy replied. "Sounds dangerous."

Beatrix rubbed the lower part of her back, remembering a past injury. "Oh, it is."

"So, what are you majoring in?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"I've been bouncing back and forth with my moods. Someday I'll find what I want to stick with."

"Hope so. But I guess it's better than picking something you'll end up hating."

They talked for a couple of more hours. Beatrix asked if they could meet again tomorrow afternoon, and because he was lonely, Timmy agreed, and they talked for hours once more.

These two days had started a trend, and now sometimes Beatrix wouldn't wait for him to walk down the beach, but would show up practically on the boys' back porch.

Danny was collecting shells and throwing them in the ocean when Beatrix approached. “Hello,” she said cheerfully.

“Hello,” Danny returned grumpily.

“I heard about your friend. I hope he gets well soon.”

“So do I.”

“Where’s Timmy?”

“Still asleep. Him and Patrick are late sleepers.”

“Well, that’s an interesting tidbit. What else can you tell me about Timmy?”

“Why d’ya wanta know?” Danny asked suspiciously.

“A girl likes to know things about a guy she likes. It’s why all those teen idol magazines stay so popular.”

“You want to get info on Timmy so you can use your knowledge to land him,” Danny said knowingly.

“I didn’t say—”

“But it’s what you were thinking. Look, Miss, Timmy isn’t up for grabs.”

“I know all about your band’s vow to celibacy. Every kid goes through a phase like that. But they grow out of it sooner or later as they grow up. You boys are just taking a little longer.”

“Hey, we’re dead serious about being celibate!”

“You’re a Christian, you should know ideals like true love and marriage and family always win out over childish notions of not getting married.”

“You’re not marrying Timmy!”

“Ooh, the jealous friend! That’s another thing—romance _always_ wins out over friendship.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Danny said, turning towards the porch door. “You depress me. Just stay away from Timmy.” He closed the door upon her.

“Make me,” Beatrix mouthed silently, then giggled to herself.

III

"What's going on between you and that chick?" Danny asked after Timmy had come back in and Beatrix had left.

"What's going on?" Timmy repeated. " **Nothing's** going on. She just keeps dropping over."

"You have made it clear that you're celibate, haven't you?"

"She knows. What are you so uptight about?"

Danny sighed. "I guess it's Matt, really, not Beatrix or anybody else. But I'm worried about her--or you, should I say. You know, she was here this morning long before you woke up. Well, she started trying to pump information on you out of me."

"She was?" Timmy asked incredulously.

"Well, she has a crush on you, you know."

"I kinda had the idea she did," Timmy said modestly.

"Just try to make sure it's clear with her where you stand," Danny requested. "That's all I'm asking."

Timmy shrugged, confused by Danny's anxiety. "Sure," he agreed nonchalantly.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

"Danny, uh, told me about your interrogating him the other day," Timmy announced, leaning up on the beach blanket, his cutoff shorts soaked from a quick dip in the sea.

Beatrix blushed. "He's a little rascal. I should probably beat him up. I bet I could take him on. He's tinier than I am."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Timmy warned. "About your being able to take him on, that is. And be careful how you talk about Danny. He's my best friend--Well, so are Patrick and Matt. We're all best friends, you know. Danny wanted me to remind you of that; to make sure you were clear, you know, as to where I stood with them and you."

"I can dig you being best friends with them, Timmy," Beatrix said. "But there are other relationships besides friendship."

Timmy stood up and walked toward the side of the house. "Beatrix, you do remember what I told you about living like a monk, don't you?"

Beatrix followed him. "Sure, you're celibate--'celibate by choice', not because anybody forced it on you, or because there's something biologically wrong with you."

Timmy nodded, pleased at her remembering the words so well. "That's right."

Beatrix smiled slyly. "Well, if you're celibate by choice and not because you're any less male than any other guy, than you must have some primitive emotions locked away in your subconscious."

Timmy folded his arms across his chest. "Beatrix, don't get any ideas about unlocking them."

She giggled, and turned away, looking out at the waves for a moment. The sea reflected in her blue eyes, and the sun shone on her hair. It sparkled as gold as Patrick's hair. What would his sweet, angelic friend think of the notions being entertained his head currently?

She turned to him, smiled, and batted her lashes. It was reminiscent of the way Danny would grin at him and wink after they had carried out a mischievous joke upon unwary park visitors. Timmy missed those days, and hoped the good times would return soon.

His thoughts returned to Beatrix, who was trying to appear natural and yet strike an attractive pose for him at the same time. It must be a sin to enjoy the sight so much. He might be punished by something happening to Matt to slow him up in his recovery.

She stepped towards him, aggression in her stride, purpose in her wicked smile. Timmy backed away nervously, being forced to a stop against the side of the beachhouse. "Come on, Beatrix, didn't the meaning of anything I just said get through to you?"

She ignored his question. "You're not getting away this time," she told him, her arms enfolding him, coming between his back and the wall. His hands also reached up, but remained in the air, shaking in hesitancy and conflict. "Now stop being shy and tell me the three words I want to hear."

"Gee, you're pretty," Timmy said, his voice squeaking.

"Close enough." She stole kisses from his lips, and they felt delicious. Her hands glided up his back. She might as well have been turning the heat on a stove from low to four hundred and fifty. Concern for what his bandmates would think flashed to Timmy's mind once more, but they were all preoccupied or otherwise unavailable for him. His platonic idealism also sought to remind him of who he was, but he didn't care at the moment. He made up his mind without another thought, his arms gratefully encircling her, his lips taking in her kisses as though they were life saving water. Maybe marriage wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe even liberated sex was a good thing. Like as soon as possible.

Then he suddenly stopped, pulling himself away. Where had his mind, his individuality been? The Timmy he thought he knew, the drummer of the Four Innocents, had taken a leave of absence. Cooled down, he mentally beat himself for allowing his hormones to take over his soul.

Beatrix's appetite had not been satisfied; it had only been increased. Timmy looked shocked and frightened to her, as if he were making an accusation of theft—she had stolen something from him. Beatrix, on the other hand, gazed at him with unabashed lust. “Now I have bewitched you,” she cooed. “Now you will always need a woman’s touch.”

Timmy stared past her. “What about a friend’s touch?”

“Well, that, too, sure,” Beatrix acknowledged. “But you have now entered the Land of the Birds and the Bees.”

“I can always cross back over the border,” he intoned.

"We can go to my bungalow," she whispered. "We'll be alone for the afternoon." She grabbed his hand. "Come on, it's just down the beach aways."

Timmy slipped his hand out of her grasp and shook his head. "No," he mumbled as he turned towards the porch. "I-I've got to visit Matt soon." He didn't, but it didn't matter.

Beatrix sighed in resignation. "Oh, okay, that does come first."

They walked off in their separate directions.

When Timmy passed through the porch door, he almost bumped into Danny. Timmy yelped instinctively, surprised that Danny was standing right there. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Danny seemed unusually angry, in fact, he was seething. He glared at his friend, then spat out, "Oh, you're sorry, are you?"

"W-what's wrong, Danny?" Timmy asked fearfully, the dreaded realization dawning on him. His infraction of an Innocent's characteristics had not gone unobserved.

"What's wrong? The way you and her were going at it? And hardly dressed, too." He gestured at Timmy's denim cutoffs.

Timmy blushed. "Really, Danny, I can explain. Honest, I can."

"That I didn't see what I thought I saw?"

"Well, you did, and for that, I apologize. I'm sorry about it, too. But when I went outside today I had no idea that what would happen would happen. I don't know why I started kissing her back."

"How could you be doing something and not know why you're doing it?"

Timmy shrugged. "I don't know, man. But you have to believe me, I didn't plan on doing that. She was so determined; it was like I couldn't fight her..."

"You could've have been more firm with her, you know."

"I suppose I could have. But it's too late. Danny, really, I'm still an Innocent and I always will be. I don't plan on making a habit of--Hey, you kiss girls, too!"

"One chaste little peck on the cheek can be compared to your steamy love scene? I don't think so. And after I asked you to make it clear to her that you were celibate."

"Well, I've already apologized as much as I can," Timmy said. Danny's face was impassive. Timmy sighed. "I hate myself enough already. I don't need you hating me, too." He rushed to the guest room, slamming the door. He turned up the radio, thinking, _Our peers are having sex and drug orgies. Only in our house would we have a fight over this._

Timmy rolled over and pummelled his pillow. He felt a lingering sense of pleasure—or something akin to it. But more strongly, he felt shame. Just as strongly, he felt violation. _Why’d that slut have to force herself on me?_ he wondered angrily. _Why can’t she respect my celibacy?_

_I suppose this isn’t how a typical, red-blooded, All American boy is supposed to react. I suppose I should be braggin’ to my friends. About how she wanted me. Of course, if I bragged to **my** friends, I’d probably lose them._

He lay on his back, and irritably started hitting his own body, trying to punish himself.

He was scared, too. What if Beatrix had asked him to follow her to her house a moment or two earlier, when his head was still ruled by his passion and not his will? Would he have been able to resist? True, she hadn’t detailed what she had in mind for them to do, but he knew what following her would have led to. Betrayal—Timmy would have betrayed his friends, his God, and himself, all for a few minutes of carnal pleasure. _I could have even ended up a father,_ he realized. _And be saddled with the responsibility of marrying Beatrix and making her an honest woman. Oh, she would’ve loved that._

But he hadn’t gone. He thanked God more than he thanked his own willpower. _Maybe if I did follow her, my mind would have come back to me during the walk—or run—to her house. Maybe._

He relaxed a little, folding his arms behind his head. _But Danny thinks I’m as good as gone._

_And Matt’s still comatose._

_This has not been a good week._

IV

Ace was at the side of his house, working on his motorcycle. From out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dina and Margie, who were wading in and out of the water and collecting seashells. They didn’t seem to notice his ogling them. _Either that, or they don’t mind,_ Ace thought with a smirk.

Beatrix ran up, glowing with excitement. “Girls! Guess what? You would never believe what just happened!”

“What? What? Tell us!” cooed the girls.

“Timmy and I—we—he kissed me!”

“How?” Margie asked incredulously. Ace himself raised an eyebrow.

“I got to him for a minute. His guard came down. He was like an erupting volcano. I’m still smoldering!” She grabbed Dina’s shoulders and whirled her around. “Whee!”

“But then what happened?” Margie wondered.

“Oh, something clicked and he became same ol’ celibate Timmy. But, who knows—today kissing, tomorrow¼?” She let it trail off deliciously, and her two friends giggled mischieviously.

 _That is news,_ Ace thought, and turned back to his motorcycle, but he could no longer concentrate for thinking of Beatrix’s story.

“I warned you to stay away from Timmy!” Danny shouted at Beatrix, on the beach halfway between the Four Innocents’ beachhouse and her house.

“Ooh, what are you gonna do, little man? Beat me up? I’m bigger than you.” It was true. Danny’s height only reached up to her bountiful breasts. He had to look up at her.

“You tried to seduce my bandmate!”

“Maybe, maybe not. Truth is, I don’t know how far I wanted to go. But, listen, I would never hurt Timmy. I wouldn’t love him and leave him. I’m in this for the long run.”

“But sex is—well, not only against our celibacy, it’s against our religion. Sex outside of marriage, that is.”

“Then it’s settled. Timmy will marry me eventually, because he’s got a lotta lust bottled up, and if he wants to sate it morally, he’s gonna have to marry me.”

Danny lunged at her. She seized his wrists and forced him into a kneeling position. “Remember—romance will win.”

“You’re not being very ladylike.”

“And you’re not being very Christian. Attacking a lady.” She let him go and stalked off.

Danny pulled his legs up into his arms and pouted. He was angry, but he knew, no matter what happened, as a Christian he was obligated to forgive Beatrix. He was mad at himself, too—Beatrix was right on one account. It reflected badly on his religious nature that he had tried to wring Beatrix’s neck.

He had to admit, Beatrix had won this battle. It was up to Timmy whether she won the war. All Danny could do was coach from the sidelines.

"What's going on?" Patrick wondered curiously when he came back from his shift. The tense vibes were as real as any solid object.

"Nothing," Danny replied, nibbling on leftovers.

"Nothing," Timmy agreed, poking warily at his drum set.

"Oh," Patrick said, looking at them suspiciously. He had a theory that they had been fighting and hoped it wasn't true.

The doorbell rang and Patrick answered it. Beatrix stood in the doorway, looking cute and sexy in a green mini-dress. Timmy leaped up from his drum stool, feeling unbearably self-conscious. As though he were naked, he hid his pelvic area behind a cymbal. "Oh, hi, Beatrix."

"Beatrix?" Danny repeated. "Oh, it is you. I didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

"What do you mean, Danny?" Timmy demanded. "None of us have ever seen her naked."

"Yeah, but she doesn't wear much else but bikinis."

"That's proper beach attire," she defended, walking in. "Hello, Patrick. What are **you** looking at me like that for?"

He turned away. The bad vibrations had something to do with her; he knew it.

Timmy breathed hard as Beatrix approached him. "I just want to thank you for this afternoon," she said.

"I'll just bet you do," Danny remarked, and Timmy glared at him.

"No, I mean thank him for saying no to me," Beatrix explained. "I got, well, carried away, but I'm just grateful that Timmy has more willpower than I do."

"Yeah, sure," Timmy mumbled, encouraged by the compliment but at the same time reminded of how he had lost some of that needed willpower. Why, when he was with Beatrix, did he always feel so..violated? He shyly glanced her way. Her eyes were roving over his body. The phrase “undressing with one’s eyes” popped into Timmy’s head. He was right to hide behind the drum cymbal! She didn’t mean any word of what she was telling Danny; she would be glad to get Timmy naked under any circumstances, moral or not. She was just here to ogle him one more time.

Danny realized this, too, and Timmy was encouraged by their finally thinking in sync. “You’re not grateful!” Danny began angrily, targeting the beach blonde.

"You're not mad at him, are you?" Beatrix interrupted. "He didn't do anything wrong. Not by most people's standards."

"No, I'm not mad," Danny muttered.

"I'll see you fellas later, then," Beatrix told them, turning back to the door. "All I wanted was to let Timmy know he did the right thing. Oh, by the way, how's your friend Matt?"

"Still out of it," Danny replied.

"Too bad. Well, I hope he wakes up soon." She left the house.

"What went on with you and her?" Patrick asked.

"Oh, don't you start," Timmy pleaded. He loved his friend's innocence, but didn't want to be reminded of it at the moment.

"I'm just asking."

"He kissed her," Danny informed Patrick.

"Oh, well, you kiss girls, too," Patrick brought up, but could not disguise his disappointment.

"He must've kissed her over a dozen times," Danny clarified. "And they were feeling up each other's back."

Timmy turned red. "Shut up, Danny! **She** was doing the feeling up. And I didn't sleep with her, now did I? You heard her. She asked me to, but I said no."

"Well, it's the least you could do."

Timmy howled in frustration, tossing over his snare drum. The violent action set off instant tears from Patrick. "Oh, Patrick, please don't cry about it. Please don't cry."

"We're not supposed to fight like this," Patrick reminded them through his tears. "We're supposed to be too close to fight."

"I'm sorry I kissed her like that, Patrick, and I'll try to make sure nothing like it ever happens again. I already told Danny that but he won't listen."

"I'm sorry," Danny said. "But I'm jealous over you fellas, you know that, and with Matt in the hospital, I'm really very uptight about everything."

A silence came over the room that felt like the calm during the eye of a hurricane. "Well, fellas, I'm going to bed," Danny said finally. "I can't believe Matt's been away for over a week."

V

Patrick came home early the next afternoon, sobbing.

"What's wrong?" Danny wondered. Despite the events of yesterday, Timmy had already gone out to find Beatrix.

"I can't handle that job anymore; I can't handle it!"

"You quit?"

Patrick squinted. "No, I got fired. I spilled the hot fudge all over the floor."

"Nerves," Danny guessed.

"I can't handle anything like that."

"It's just as well," Danny said, as Patrick sat down beside him on the sectional. "I'm getting bored around here. I'm really worried about Timmy. That bitch Beatrix is slowly but surely turning him into one red-blooded, All-American male. Pretty soon one day he'll be saying to us he doesn't want to leave the band, but he's gonna marry her and move out on his own."

Patrick sat up. "He wouldn't do that!"

"It wasn't that long ago when he said he wouldn't even give a girl a peck on the cheek."

"But it was just a slip up! I don't care for it anymore than you do, Danny, but, still, Timmy's not gonna leave us."

Danny sighed. "I had a nightmare the other night. I dreamed just you and I were living together. I guess Matt had died or something...Anyway, Timmy was living with this wife--"

"Beatrix?"

"I don't know, sometimes she was Beatrix, and the next instant she'd be that Cindy Boyd chick. You know how dreams are. There was no more band, his wife wanted him to hold down a 'real job' and spend the nights at home with his son and daughter.

"Then things went backwards," he continued. "The scene changed. I was the best man, I think, at the wedding, and I was real jealous. And Timmy was saying to me, 'We'll always be friends, but a man also needs a wife and a family.' And sex, too, he said. 'You can't expect me to hold it back forever. You fellas ought to try it, too, sometime, start courting girls.'"

"Timmy doesn't feel that way, you know that," Patrick reminded him.

"I know he doesn't now; I'm just scared he'll change." 

"Timmy's stubborn and committed. Just like all of us are."

Danny was silent, holding his head in his hands. 

"He's not gonna leave us!" Patrick insisted.

"I want to believe that," Danny said.

"Well, trust him, then."

"But he failed my trust."

Patrick looked like he might be about to shout, but then he spoke quietly. "Things have been hard lately. We're worried about Matt. You're trying to take on his responsibilities. I have--or had--to work that job. When I play music, I feel alive. But the kind of chores I do there make me feel less than human."

"What's Timmy's problem, though?" Danny wondered. "Why's he been acting so strange lately?"

"He has no one to talk to," Patrick answered without hesitation. "Matt's unconscious, I fall asleep on Timmy because of my job, and you've been uptight." Patrick touched Danny's shoulder. "In hard times, we should be able to stick together, not fall apart. And for soul mates like us, it should be so easy."

Timmy stood out back, gazing down the shore line for a trace of Beatrix. Ace accosted him in the meantime, slapping him on his slightly sunburned back. "Ow! Ace, what did you do that for?"

"Hey, take it easy. I'm just here to congratulate you."

"For what?"

"I'm still not sure about your bandmates, but at least you're finally getting in the swing of things."

"How'd you find out about that?"

"Beatrix has been squealing to all her friends. It was only kissing, but still, now you're heading in the right direction."

"She's been telling everyone, huh?"

"Sure. Don't be embarrassed, though. I'd be feeling high if she said what she said about you about me."

"Ace, you--!" Timmy began.

" **You** and your bandmates drive me up the wall!" Ace exclaimed. "Here you have this gorgeous chick who's practically drooling all over you, and you don't take advantage of it. The guys are wild about this girl--some would cheat and steal and kill to get her. I myself want to get her in bed. And you won't even touch her. Look, Timmy,” Ace argued. “What would you do if a million dollars fell in your lap?”

“I’d try to find the rightful owner—”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. You’re stupid like that! Look, Beatrix is a million dollar girl. Don’t let her go!”

“Hey, you actually sounded really sensitive there,” Timmy remarked.

“Get out of here!”

“Get out of where? We’re outside. At my house. So you should get out of here," Timmy said irritably. "Ace, if you heard about me and Beatrix, you must have heard about Matt from your uncle or somebody."

"No, what about Matt?"

"He's in the hospital, and I'm in no mood to put up with any nonsense."

"Oh, sorry," Ace said abruptly, and was quickly on his way.

Beatrix arrived not long afterwards. "You know, you didn't have to go telling everyone about what happened," Timmy chided.

"I didn't have anything negative to say."

Timmy took a deep breath, then announced, "Beatrix, you've got to stop coming around here."

"Friends don't like it?"

Timmy shook his head. "It's getting on their nerves."

"Well, they get on my nerves, what with their anti-kissing rules."

"You know I didn't mean to do that. Not that I didn't enjoy it at the time, but you forced yourself on me."

"It's the only way any girl can get anything out of you."

"I resent it, though."

"You resent it, huh? You're trying to tell me goodbye, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"Do you really want to, though? Your friends are putting you up to this, aren't they? You don't have to do what they tell you to. You're a big boy now."

"I know that, but **I** don't want to continue this relationship in the direction it's heading. I'm a celibate, you know. A celibate by choice, not coercion. And I don't like you trying to lead me astray."

She seemed cocky, appearing to have a stinging comeback on the tip of her tongue. Then she threw her arms around him. "If I can turn you on once, I can do it again." She nibbled on his neck.

Timmy tried to pull away, but her grasp was tight. "Beatrix, cut it out! Stop it! I'm warning you, Beatrix!" His voice was getting louder the longer she refused to listen.

Danny and Patrick appeared from the back of the house, as though they had been there quite awhile. "Oh, great!" Timmy moaned, thinking that they would be mad at him all over again. "Fellas, I'm not doing anything back!"

Beatrix drew away, finally noticing Timmy's bandmates. Danny pointed a finger at her. "Stop it, you naughty girl. Let's get 'im, Patrick!"

"Oh, no!" Timmy cried as his friends charged for him. He ran down the shore, the two in hot pursuit. They caught up with him, and pouncing, knocked him upon the sand. Patrick held down his arms and Danny his legs. Timmy laughed, realizing a playful attentiveness, not hostility, was behind their ferocity. "Aw, fellas!"

"Look, Beatrix," Danny announced. "Timmy is our bandmate. He belongs to us, not to you. If you want him, you're gonna have to fight me for him." He stood up, and adopted a boxer's stance. "You wanna fight me? Come on."

Beatrix shot him an incredulous stare, taken aback for the moment. Finally, she announced angrily, "Okay, Timmy, have it your way. I'm leaving you. Do you hear that? I'm leaving!"

He did not beg for her to come back. "Bye, Beatrix," he told her from where he lay pinned to the ground. "I hope you're successful in college."

He meant for there to be no hard feelings, she knew, but as she turned away from the beach, tears of envy fell from her eyes.

V

Matt sat up in the hospital bed, surrounded by his three bandmates. "I really wished I could have woken up to one of your faces instead of that doctor."

"Well, as long as you're back with us," Danny remarked. "Dr. Stevens says you're gonna be fine."

"What was it like, man?" Timmy wondered. "Did you experience anything at all?"

"I could hear you talking sometimes when you came to visit," Matt replied.

Timmy blushed. "Oh, then you heard all--"

"--All about you and Beatrix," Matt completed. "But that doesn't matter right now. All I want is to share your company for a while."

"Yeah, and pretty soon you'll be back to playing guitar and songwriting," Patrick rejoiced.

"I have some lyrics you can write a tune to," Timmy announced.

“Matt?” Timmy asked, peeping into the spare bedroom where Danny had put the bandleader for safekeeping.

“Yeah?”

“Matt?”

“Yes, Timmy?”

The shy drummer stepped into the room and closed the door. He sat at the foot of the bed. “I need to talk to you alone.”

“This is about Beatrix, isn’t it?”

Timmy nodded.

“You slipped up. That’s all. Just try harder next time.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully communicate what went on to Danny and Patrick. I’ve come to realize something—they’re natural born celibates. Whereas with me, I still have all the normal urges—maybe not as intensely as an average guy, I don’t know—but my mind and heart and soul have chosen to follow a different path.” He searched his bandleader’s face. “Do _you_ have _any_ idea what I’m talking about?”

Matt nodded. “The fantasies when you’re trying to get to sleep¼”

Timmy smiled. “I knew you’d understand. It’s like your stupid hormones playing tug-o’-war with the rest of you.” He sighed. “Man, for a second there, I was almost willing to marry her just for the chance to get at her morally. But that’s not what I really want in life.”

“Just stand firm in what you believe—in both the Bible and your own personal preferences. And if you stumble—well, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep on.”

“So you get tempted, too?”

“Sheesh. Every other day, I think.”

“Just thoughts, though?”

“Man, we don’t often put ourselves into the kind of situations that would lead us to be tempted into an actual physical situation.”

Timmy blushed. “Except recently.”

“Oh, it’s happened before, sure. I didn’t tell all of you this—I might have mentioned it to Danny—but¼remember Doreen Latimer?”

“Star of _Lawless Town_ , how could I forget?”

“Well, remember that night I spent over at her apartment?”

“You said nothing happened,” Timmy replied warily.

“And nothing did, fortunately. But, Timmy—she tried to seduce me.”

“She—”

Matt held up a restraining hand. Timmy allowed him to continue. “Part of me would’ve liked nothing better than to let her initiate me in the ways of sex in her cozy little bedroom.”

“You should’ve gotten out of there—even if you did say no.”

It was Matt’s turn to blush. “Yeah, better to play it safe.”

Timmy chuckled to himself. “Big TV star tries to seduce my bandleader.” He stood up, gesturing dramatically. “But our fearless leader doesn’t fall!”

“And you know why?” Matt posed.

“Why?”

Matt shrugged.

“I’ll tell you why,” Timmy announced. “It’s because he is strong!” He sat back down, leaning in as if conspiring with Matt. “Got that, Matt? You’re strong. You’ll bounce back from this.”

“Well, I think the worse is behind me now. I just gotta be prepared even years down the road to see psychedelic colors flash on out of nowhere.”

VI

Back in his own bed upstairs, Matt sat up only to be pushed down by Timmy and Danny, as Patrick looked on. "Oh, come on, guys!" Matt protested. "I'm all better now."

"Healing is a gradual process," Danny said simply.

"Yeah, Matt," Timmy exemplified. "You've got to take it easy."

"I already did," their bandleader stated. "Now, fellas, we

have an audition tomorrow, and I'm not gonna miss it."

"Oh, of course not!" Patrick agreed.

"But we're gonna do all the preparation," Danny told him. "You're gonna rest."

"Ain't you even gonna let me rehearse tonight?" Matt demanded. Danny sat down beside him on the bed and massaged his temples. "Now don't you worry about a thing, Matt," he said soothingly. "The songs we're doing are ones you know backwards and forwards."

"But I might be rusty. I've been out of it quite a few days,

you know."

"Yes, which is exactly why we want you to take it easy."

Matt sighed. "Here we go again."

Danny gestured for Patrick and Timmy to get ready for the

audition. "Leave me alone with him for a few minutes." The two nodded and went downstairs.

Danny turned back to Matt and stared at him. "Now, Matt, go back to sleep."

"I've been sleeping long enough."

"Matt‑‑" Danny began warningly.

"You're trying to take over the group, aren't you?" Matt

teased quietly. "I always knew you were really the leader."

"I am not! You are, but you're recovering! You can't be on

full duty."

"I'm at your mercy, you know."

"Good. I'll be merciful then. Go to sleep and I won't

torture you."

"You have a way with words. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Yes. Okay, you asked for it. Which do you prefer‑‑that I sing you a lullaby or hit you over the head with a mallet?"

"Neither."

Danny began to croon anyway.

"No, not that!" Matt screeched. "I'd rather be hit with the mallet!"

Downstairs, Timmy and Patrick heard Matt's protests. "Don't think Danny's getting him to cooperate," Timmy remarked.

"Uh-huh," Patrick agreed. "Matt's stubborn."

"So is Danny. Well, let's see who wins out."

A few minutes later, Danny bounded down the stairs.

"Well...?" Timmy asked.

Danny nodded. "I finally got him to relax."

"You know, I can't blame him for putting up a fight myself," Patrick said. "I don't like seeing him asleep lately."

"It doesn't matter if it's a gentle sleep," Danny pointed out. "That's a good thing."

Two minutes later, the three looked up to see Matt climbing down the stairs. "Matt!" Danny exclaimed. "You told me you'd relax for a couple of minutes."

"I did," Matt replied, glancing at his watch. "I timed it." The others moaned, but then Matt became forceful. "Look, you want to go to the audition unprepared?"

"Aw, no, man," Danny agreed. "But--"

"Then we have got to start practicing."

"Look, Matt, I am not going to have you playing anymore than you have to," Danny said with authority.

"Oh, well, then why don't you guys just leave me home then?" Matt wondered in exasperation. "I'm not gonna be any good to ya."

"As it is, Matt, we're playing our lighter numbers," Danny announced. "I don't want you getting all sweaty on those rock'n'roll numbers."

"No sweat," Matt told Danny. "I'll just stand there real stifflike and play like Gene does with the Consorts."

"Oh, Matt!" Danny sighed. "You drive me to distraction."

"Well, I'm getting a bit restless, you know."

"You always **were** restless, Matt. Don't you think so, Patrick?"

"Huh? What?"

"Isn't Matt restless?"

"Yeah, I think he can do with less rest now."

"See, Danny. Patrick thinks its time for me to get on with life, too."

"Well, okay, if Timmy agrees, you win by majority vote. Timmy? What do you think? Where is Timmy?"

"I don't know," Patrick said. "He was just here a minute ago."

"Well, where could he be?" Danny wondered. 

"You know," Patrick said slowly. "I think he might have gone out back."

" **We'll** look for him on the beach," Danny stated. " **You** stay here in case he comes back, or in case he never really left."

"Oh, long trip, out back," Matt remarked. "I feel like doing something drastic to you, Danny, but what it is, I don't know."

"Come off it, Matt," Danny told him. "Come on, Patrick."

"Bye, Matt."

"Yeah, goodbye." 

Beatrix saw Danny and Patrick step outside. "Are they going to attack one of us again?"

Timmy raised his voice to speak to them. "She just wants to say goodbye. Is it all right?"

"If you think," Danny replied.

"I'll just be a couple of minutes," he reassured them.

"Okay," Danny said, and he and Patrick went back in.

Timmy turned back to Beatrix. "I'm sorry I don't feel like you want me to feel," he apologized. "I've had hopes in people before and been disappointed in them."

"I just need to know one thing," she said. "Do you have any love for me at all?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yes, I do love you. But you're not my one and only love."

"And not your first," she added knowingly.

"I wrote a song about you," he told her, as though that made everything all right. He started reciting them shyly. "'Beatrix, it's true, I do love you, but I love my friends more/ Me and you, could make two, but my friends and I make four'."

"Sheesh, what a love song!" she exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Can we use it for the band?" Timmy asked. "I'll add some more verses."

She crossed her arms. "Well, okay, just change the name."

"How about Trixie?"

"Trixie is fine for the song."

VII

That night, having no dates, Beatrix, Dina, and Margie took a walk along the shore. They stopped when they passed by the Four Innocents' house, hearing the band rehearsing. Beatrix listened in to their conversation before they started their next number. "It's my song! The one I was telling you about."

"You mean the not necessarily romantic one?" Dina asked.

"Yeah." 

"Trixie, it's true, I do love you," they heard Timmy sing. "But I love my friends more\Me and you could make two\ But my friends and I make four."

"I told him to change the name to Trixie," Beatrix informed her friends.

Timmy continued:

"You're so nice but I think thrice

I'd rather be with my friends

Please be wary‑‑I won't marry

For what I know all will end."

"I can see what you mean by it being a not necessarily romantic love song," Margie observed.

Timmy came to the next verse:

"Trixie loves me, I know this to be

It hurts me to break her heart

What can I say as I go my way

Telling her that we must part"

Beatrix sniffed. "Well, that's a little bit better," Dina remarked. 

"Shhh!" Beatrix warned.

The song came to a close: 

"Trixie, it's true, I do love you

But my friends have come before

Find someone new who'll be true

For I can give you no more"

"I like it," the song's inspiration commented, then turned away. "Come on, let's go."

"Aren't we gonna visit the boys?" Margie asked.

"No, I'd only be kidding myself," Beatrix said, and strolled off down the beach, making Margie and Dina catch up with her.


	5. Shadow of a Doubt

SHADOW OF A DOUBT

I

The Four Innocents were browsing at Ludwig's Department Store, but each had taken off in separate directions. Finally, Danny, Matt, and Patrick reunited, and went to fetch Timmy. Before they reached him, they saw him talking with Cindy Boyd, who had obviously become pregnant. They stopped curiously. "Yeah, that's too bad," Timmy told her. "But guys don't like taking on the responsibility."

"I wish you would," Cindy remarked. "You'd make a great

father."

"No way! I'm happy with my three friends and our commune."

"Do they know?"

"Know what?"

"That you spent the night at my house a few months ago?"

"Yeah, I told them I was at your place."

"Man, when my father caught us together, I thought he'd kill us!"

"Yeah, he was steamed. But, actually, I don't blame him."

"I feel sorry for you, though. If only I had the guts to tell him I tried seducing you, not the other way around."

"Well, I forgive you. You were scared. So, how far along are you?"

"Like I said, not long after your last visit. That was about

three months ago."

"What are you hoping for‑‑boy or girl?"

"Girl. But if it's a boy, I'll name it after you."

"Oh, gee, thanks. I'd be hon‑‑" He looked around suddenly. "What's wrong?" Cindy asked in concern.

"Nothing. I thought I saw the fellas, but I guess they went

to another section."

"Well, I better be going now anyway."

Timmy gave her a warm hug. "You take care of yourself, okay? And here—let me give you the pad’s number in case you need help with..er, well, whatever."

"Thanks for being so understanding," she said. "I know you don't approve of the way I got pregnant. My parents don't--Boy, were they mad! I thought I'd get kicked out and disowned."

"But it's okay now?"

"It has to be, I guess. They said I'm still their daughter, but they're disappointed in me. They want me to marry the father, though. They say it's only proper."

"You have to find him first, though."

"It's a good thing we can't. For one night, he was okay, but he wouldn't make a good husband--or a good father for my child."

Matt, Danny, and Patrick stormed off, dumping their planned

purchases in a bargain bin. "I don't believe what I just heard," Danny muttered.

"Me, either," Matt agreed. "Sure, he told us he had been at her house, but he didn't say he'd gone that far."

"Why **would** he say such a thing?" Danny pointed out.

Patrick was sobbing. "Man, I can't believe he gave up‑‑I

mean, gave in."

"We must've misheard it, Matt," Danny said. "I mean, we just

must have."

"Yeah. Too bad I can't figure out any other meaning to what

we heard." He sighed. "Timmy was always so childlike, so

innocent. He didn't need‑‑Well, you know..to get his pleasures."

"Although lately, what with him kissing Beatrix..." Danny brought up. 

Timmy, also neglecting to purchase anything, ran up to his

friends. "Hey, fellas, where'd you go?"

"Nowhere," Matt said grouchily.

"No‑‑? Hey, man, aren't you gonna buy anything?"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then neither are we."

"Oh. Okay. Hey, Patrick, what's wrong?"

"N‑nothing. Nothing."

"He couldn't find what he wanted," Danny lied hurriedly.

"Oh." Timmy raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"And the saleslady was mean to him," Danny continued.

"You gonna be alright?" Timmy asked Patrick, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm f‑fine. J‑Just leave me alone." Patrick

pulled away from Timmy's grasp.

"He's embarrassed to cry in a store," Danny explained.

Timmy stood still a moment as the other three headed for the exit. He fought back his own tears. Why were his friends treating him this way? They had never acted like this before. They seemed to all be mad at him, and he had no idea why. He decided to ignore it; he must be imagining things.

When the Four Innocents reached their van, Matt took the driver's seat and Danny the front passenger's. Timmy sat in the second row, but Patrick sat away from him, on the floor. Timmy looked back at him, worried, but Patrick did not meet his gaze. Matt turned the radio on, but besides the music, they rode in silence.

"Look, guys, something's up," Timmy said finally. "Are you just gonna sit there and not let me know what I did? Or even if I did do something?"

Matt was quiet for another second, then explained softly, "We came in during the middle of your conversation with Cindy."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, explain what was going on."

"What do you mean?"

"About her being pregnant and all."

"Yeah, she's having some guy named Brad's baby. She hardly knows the father."

Danny chuckled with relief. "Brad, huh?"

"Yeah, Brad. What's the matter, fellas, did you think--" Timmy inhaled sharply. "Did you think it was me?"

"Well--" Danny began.

Timmy pointed an accusing finger. "Because if you did--" He sighed. "Oh, never mind."

II

Cindy had returned home, a place that recently had always been filled with tension. "Now, Cindy, we've discussed this before," Mrs. Boyd said. "The proper thing to do to make amends is for you and the father to get married. You haven't got much time left. You've missed the chance of being able to make people think you're an honest woman."

"You said his name was Brad?" Mr. Boyd tried to ascertain. "Brad what? Haven't you talked to him lately about this?"

She had seen Brad around school, but hadn't talked to him, preferring people to just think he was missing. He always seemed to have a new girlfriend, and she doubted he would care about her problems. Even if he found it in his heart to take responsibility for their kid, she wasn't sure she wanted him in her life anymore. "What if he's the kind who won't make a good husband?"

"We'll meet with him first," Mr. Boyd said simply. "Sometimes you have to pay the price for you irresponsibility. And that may mean having to settle for less than your Dream Man."

"Well, dear, what if he is really bad?" Mrs. Boyd asked fretfully. "We don't want someone abusive kid raising our grandchild or beating up on our daughter."

"We'll meet with him first," Mr. Boyd repeated.

"What if he doesn't want to get married?" Cindy wondered.

"Young men can be persuaded to change their minds," her father told her, a hint of icy threat in his tone. "Now what's Brad's last name?"

Cindy looked down at the floor. "Actually, Brad's just a name I made up..."

Matt sighed. "I guess I go better look for Timmy." Seeming upset, the drummer had gone out on the beach for a walk.

The phone rang. Danny answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, my name is Mr. Boyd," the caller said. "Does Timmy Rowe live here?"

"Yeah," Danny replied, looking at his bandmates worriedly.

"Can I speak to him?" Mr. Boyd asked curtly.

"I'm afraid he's a bit too hard to reach right now, but is you're really desperate, I may be able to get him."

"Desperate? My daughter Cindy only says he's the boy who's going to be the father of my grandchild, that's all. Desperate, why no! I can wait all my life..."

"All right, there's no need to be sarcastic!" Danny exclaimed. "I'll get him."

Danny put the receiver down on the table and headed towards the porch. "Wha--?" Matt began to ask, but Danny silently shoved his way past him.

Once outside, he yelled, "Timmy! You best better get in here right now!"

In a couple of moments, Timmy, breathless, ran inside. "The phone," Danny told him, trailing behind him.

"What's wrong now?" Timmy wondered as he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Is this Timmy Rowe?" Mr. Boyd demanded.

"Yeah," Timmy replied. Recognizing the voice, he asked, "Say, you're Cindy's father."

"Come on, fellas, let's go," Danny said to Patrick and Matt.

"And shortly from now, you're Cindy's husband," Mr. Boyd announced.

"What?" Timmy asked Mr. Boyd, then noticed his bandmates were also acting in a questionable manner. "Hey, fellas, where you going?"

"To--" Matt began. "Where are we going, Danny?"

"Out."

"Don't think I'm letting you cut out on your responsibility," Mr. Boyd continued.

"What responsibility?" Timmy saw his friends walk out the door. "Well, goodbye, then," he muttered after them.

"Don't play dumb with me," Mr. Boyd ordered.

"I can't help it! I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"You got her pregnant that time you were over here a few months ago."

"I did not!"

"The timing fits suspiciously well."

"So? I still know I didn't lay a hand on her."

"We'll discuss this later. We're expecting you at our house at eight tonight." He hung up.

Timmy ran out the door. The van hadn't left yet. Pretending nothing was wrong, he climbed in. "So, where we going?"

"The movies," Matt said.

Matt started the engine, and again the bandmates rode in silence.

Timmy could take it no longer. "So, you still think I got Cindy pregnant?"

"We never said that," Danny told him nervously.

"Why can't you trust me?" Timmy demanded. "You should know me better."

"It just sounds like--" Danny tried to explain.

"Never mind what somebody else is making it sound like. Someone you don't know as well as me."

The van stopped for a traffic light. Timmy growled. "I'll see you guys later." He opened the back doors of the van.

Patrick sat up. "Hey, where you going?"

Timmy shrugged, sneering. "Out," he replied flippantly.

III

As soon as traffic conditions allowed him to, Matt turned the van around. Timmy had already disappeared, probably into one of the many shops around. "We gonna search them all?" Danny wondered.

"No," Matt said in resignation. "He needs to cool off. He'll be back." They headed home.

They sat around doing nothing. Matt sat at the bandstand, Patrick at the kitchen table, and Danny on the psychiatrist couch with his legs drawn up into his arms.

"You know, I've been thinking..." Matt began finally.

"That we have to give Timmy every benefit of the doubt?" Danny guessed.

"Well, yeah, I want to give him every benefit of the doubt I can. I mean, I still find this all very hard to believe. It's

just so unlike him. But, actually, I was gonna say, if we find out that Timmy is in fact guilty; sure, we can be angry. We can tell him he was wrong‑‑which I'm sure he's figured out by now, supposing he did it. But we can't turn our backs on him completely. Even if he betrayed us, he is still our friend, and there's other things we love him for besides his celibacy. There’s more to our band than celibacy,” Matt reasoned. “There has to be. I found out recently that my cousin Billie’s decided to be celibate, and I’m close to her in a sense, but I don’t need to be with her every hour of every day, like I do with you guys.”

“Religion?” Patrick guessed.

“Sure, we have that in common, too. But there’s something else—something we may never be able to put our finger on that binds us together.”

"Will he still be one of the Four Innocents?" Patrick asked.

"Well, technically, no. But he can still play in the Four

Innocents band." Matt sighed.

"Will he have to move out?" Danny wondered.

Matt sighed again. "Oh, I don't know, where's he got to go?" Danny shrugged. "Cindy's house."

Matt ignored this statement. “I got something to tell you,” he said somberly. “Timmy didn’t want this to go past my ears but it’s, well, _relevant_ to the situation.”

“What?” Danny asked anxiously.

“Timmy confessed to me during my recovery, when all that Beatrix nonsense was going on, that he sometimes felt it difficult to keep his hormonal urges in check.”

“How difficult?”

“He said when he was kissing Beatrix he wanted to¼well, you know, he was ready to¼”

“Have sex with her?” Danny completed bluntly.

“Yeah. And that only the grace of God saved him that day. He said..he..well..he admits to having fantasies.”

Danny looked aghast. “Fantasies?”

“What do you mean by that?” Patrick asked naively.

“It’s when you imagine yourself committing some sexual sin that you’d kill yourself for if you did it in real life,” Matt explained. “Don’t be too hard on him for that, guys.” He looked down at the floor. “I have them, too.”

“Really?” Danny asked.

Matt looked back up. “It’s so easy for you and Patrick to remain pure, Danny. It’s more of a struggle for Timmy and me.”

“I had a fantasy,” Patrick stated.

“Really?” Danny and Matt wondered in incredulous unison.

“That time I had that awful fever. I wasn’t myself. I think I had multiple fantasies that night, actually.”

Matt smiled. “It’s okay, Patrick. Everybody has them.” They looked at Danny. “Well, almost everyone.”

“What can I tell ya?” Danny replied. “Some are just born lucky, I guess.”

“Well, Danny, there’s lots of people out there who wouldn’t consider it lucky,” Matt remarked.

“I imagined a couple o’ times I was married and had kids. Does that count?”

“Did you imagine in detail how you and your wife created those kids?”

“No, not really.”

“Then probably not.”

“It’s not that I actually want to _be_ married,” Danny explained hurriedly.

“Understood.”

Danny thought for a moment, then held up a finger. “Aha! I once envisioned what Princess Trishalana looks like naked!”

“The Hopewell cartoon character?” Matt wondered.

“Yeah, well¼Does that count?”

“Don’t be so desparate to find a time that counts,” Matt adivsed.

“Yeah, we’re not bad boys who pride ourselves on them,” Patrick added.

“Point taken. But what about Timmy? Could his fantasy have turned into reality?”

Matt sighed, brought back into current problems. "Our relationship has always been like a marriage," he said philosophically. "And divorce is not proper except in the case of adultery‑‑the breaking of trust, becoming intimate with someone who's not part of your marriage. I think what Timmy did to us‑‑or what it seems he did to us‑‑is our counterpart to that case. But I say we wait for now, even if we find out he did do it."

"Well, if we're still not sure he did it," Patrick began. "Then why are we treating him like he did? I'm not saying I've done it any less, but, you know..."

Matt sighed a third time. "I don't know. I hope it doesn't mean we've already decided that he's guilty. I mean, we've gotten to know Timmy pretty well in the last couple of years, and from

what we've gotten to know, he just wouldn't do a thing like that, even if Cindy says he did. I mean, Danny, you're going on about Timmy, but remember that time Raven said you and her got bent?"

"Oh, yeah," Danny recalled, now a bit ashamed at his jumping to conclusions.

Matt continued. "So, when he comes back, we're going to act as if he's innocent."

"Because he is," Patrick decided.

Danny sighed. "You're right. We've been fools."

"Man, have we ever," Matt remarked. "I hope Timmy isn't mad too long. It's we who betrayed him, not the other way around."

IV

Exhausted, Timmy walked into a club. He nursed a soft drink as though it were a beer, and half-heartedly waited for the show to begin. 

Two long-haired men in hippie gear walked on stage. They were the oldest looking hippie types that Timmy had ever seen. As it ended up, they were a vaudeville-style act.

The club was practically deserted, and afterwards, Timmy found himself talking with the duo, for both he and they had practically no one else to choose from.

"We could use a drummer," sidekick Karr told him.

"A drummer?" Timmy asked. "What for?"

"Why, to play a little roll and a cymbal crash everytime we do a bad joke," Otto, the straight man, answered.

"Oh, yeah." Timmy laughed at the idea.

"Seriously, you could come with us if you have no other place to go," Otto told him.

"My friends think I don't have any other place to go besides home with them," Timmy muttered. He lay his head on the table. "Well, they're right." After a moment, he looked back up at the duo. "Don't think I'm not grateful, you guys, but nothing's ever gonna match up to what I knew there."

"I think you should call them," Vern advised. "They're probably worried sick about you."

Timmy shook his head. "Oh, I can't, after all I said, after everything that's happened today."

"Better now than ten years down the road," Otto pointed out. "Here, I tell you what. If you're scared, why don't you give us the number, and we'll call, and if you get up the nerve to speak to them, we'll put you on."

"Oh, I don't know." The duo continued to look at him, concern showing on their faces. "All right."

Matt sat alone in the beachhouse. Danny and Patrick were out searching New Haven. The Four Innocents' bandleader had made a few calls to places he thought Timmy might be. Pausing for a moment, he received a phone call himself. It was from Mr. Boyd. "I told Timmy to be at our house at eight. Where is he?"

"Timmy didn't get your daughter pregnant, Mr. Boyd," Matt said. "He's a virgin. It was some guy named Brad."

"There's that name Brad again," Mr. Boyd remarked to himself.

"We couldn't reach Timmy even if we wanted to. He was so upset at everybody accusing him of doing something he didn't do that he ran off on us."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Look, I...Well, I've heard that name Brad before, and maybe I better check up on his story first before bothering you anymore."

"Yeah, I think so."

Matt was taking a short break a couple of minutes later, when the phone rang again. "Hello, is this the Four Innocents' residence?" a strange voice asked.

"Yes, it is," Matt replied.

"Look, you don't know me, but my name is Otto of the comedy duo Otto and Karr. I'm down at the Question Mark Club with a friend of yours."

"Timmy?" Matt wondered hopefully.

"Yes, that's right. He really wants to come back to you, but he's afraid to even speak to you. I think maybe you should come down to the club."

"All right, I will. Thanks a lot for calling. It means a lot to us." 

Sitting on the floor of the club, Timmy was resting his head in his hands, his moods tangled up in a storm. He could do no more than sit there. He then felt a familiar presence, and looked up to see Matt. "Hey, old buddy," his bandleader greeted softly, bending down. Timmy didn't answer; he just stared straight ahead. "We're all really sorry for doubting you."

"Yeah," the drummer said simply. He stood up and walked past his friend, who followed. Timmy glared back and increased his pace. 

Catching up to him, Matt slammed him against the wall. Timmy stared straight at him, shocked at this use of force. Matt stared back, also wondering why he had acted that way. Slowly, he removed his hands from his bandmate's shoulders. "Sorry if I was a bit rough there," he apologized. "I just didn't want you getting away from us again. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Not physically." He was fighting back tears. "How could you fellas lose faith in me? I've tried my best to be the best friend I could possibly be these last couple..couple of‑‑"

"We're more sorry than you know." Matt held Timmy close as the accused boy wept on his shoulder. "Please forgive us, Timmy. Please."

"Oh, Matt, I love you guys, honest!" Timmy cried. "But you really put me down."

"I understand."

"I‑It's gonna be all right, isn't it?"

"Sure. Everything'll be fine. Why?"

Timmy wiped away his tears. "You do all realize I'm innocent, don't you? I mean, sometimes something gets so stuck in people's minds, that nothing can convince them otherwise."

"Timmy, it hasn't had time to get stuck in our minds. We

believe you. We're convinced."

"I hope so. I couldn't live with you all still believing that I had done such a thing, even if you acted like nothing was wrong anymore."

"We know you didn't do it. Now, please, try to forgive us. We know we did you wrong, but we love you and we want you back."

Timmy smiled weakly. "All right."

"Well, come on, Caroline's out waiting in the car."

"Caroline?"

"Danny and Patrick are out in the van. But they should report back in soon."

"I've caused a lot of trouble, haven't I?" Timmy asked in shame.

"No, you haven't. It was **we** thinking you caused a lot of trouble that caused a lot of trouble."

Timmy smiled. "Whatever."

Matt put an arm around Timmy's shoulder as they walked towards the exit. "By the way, there was a robbery down at the bank today, and police say the suspect looks an awful lot like you, and we were just wondering--"

Timmy shoved his bandleader, playing along. "Yeah, it was me, all right. Timmy 'Trouble' Rowe. Oh, and you know those hookers down on Sundown Street? I'm their pimp."

"Really? What about all the drug smuggling that's been going on?"

"Me."

"Keep talking, babe. Gotta get this all down for the confession..."

They got into Caroline's car and headed home.

As for Cindy, her parents met Brad and decided he was a jerk and so the Boyd family set him free. It was a long and hard road for Cindy, having a baby out of wedlock, but she persevered. And she did all right. The baby was a girl. Her name was Timothea.


	6. The Silent Treatment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was based on The Monkees episode "The Monkee's Paw" by Coslough Johnson.

THE SILENT TREATMENT

I

Matt and Timmy were at home, having left the Question Mark Club. They were now waiting for Danny or Patrick to call. Finally, they did. Timmy was too shy to answer, since he was the one who had run away, so he let Matt pick up the phone. “Yeah, Danny, Timmy’s back here. Everything’s okay¼Yeah, come on home.”

He hung up and returned to Timmy, who was sitting on the edge of the bandstand. “They’re only a few minutes away.” They waited in silence.

Finally steps were heard outside, a hand fumbling on the door knob. Matt arose and Timmy also stood awkwardly.

“Hi, Timmy,” Danny said curtly, walking past him as though nothing had happened. “Hey, Matt, I think there’s something wrong with the engine.”

Timmy looked curiously after Danny, then turned his head back around. Patrick was standing before him. “Hi, Timmy,” he also said, but he said it tenderly. “I’m sorry.”

Timmy smiled faintly. “I know.” Patrick embraced him warmly. It felt like healing. Timmy didn’t want to let go.

Timmy frowned, watching Danny discuss mechanical problems with Matt. “Danny.”

Danny turned around. “What?”

“I’m, well, back.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re back,” the English lad answered matter-of-factly. “Don’t pull something like that again.”

Timmy nodded. Danny turned back to Matt. _Maybe I’m imagining things_ , the drummer thought. The Four Innocents’ bandleader and Patrick had not seemed to notice anything odd about Danny’s behavior. No embrace, no tenderness. Had Danny really forgiven him?

"I hope, boys," remarked Mr. Stone, owner of the Scarlet Macaw Club. "That it was worth it to reschedule this audition today." 

"We appreciate it, Mr. Stone," Matt acknowledged, and the boys climbed on stage to keep the date that had been rescheduled from last week.

Timmy's thoughts were less on singing and playing, however, and more on recent events--what had gone on between him and Beatrix, and what had consequentially gone on between him and Danny because of it. He still hadn't gotten over the experience, and his performance was shaky, his voice quivering as he remembered the anger he had seen in Danny's eyes. Then there was the misunderstanding about Cindy. Timmy knew Patrick and Matt had realized their mistake, but he wasn't confident that Danny had, despite his having said so. Timmy's bandmates played on nervously during his reverie, hoping he wouldn't crash, and wondering what sort of mental trip he was putting himself on this time. Mr. Stone watched on like a hawk.

They wrapped up their song and waited. "Not bad," Mr. Stone

said. "Can you possibly be here to perform at seven and ten

tonight?"

"Tonight?" Matt repeated. "Uh, sure, we can do that."

Timmy was edgy and cranky before the first set that night. They were the second of two bands, and the club had provided a drum set that Timmy wasn't used to playing. While his bandmates tuned up backstage, Timmy twiddled his fingers and tapped his feet, irritating himself more than anyone else. He wandered out on the stage of the closed club, where the first band was setting up. He glanced curiously at a table holding an odd assortment of instruments, the property of the Cowboys and Indians, a mixed band in more ways than one.

A brunette wearing a mini buckskin dress joined Timmy,

who paid her no mind. His attention was caught by a small drum

made of wood and animal skins. He couldn't resist tapping out the paradiddle upon it. "That's a cursed Indian drum," the girl told him casually.

"Huh?" Timmy blurted, stopping in mid‑sequence.

"Legend had it that it was owned by a hot‑tempered Indian. He was great at rallying the tribe, but he was always shooting his mouth off at somebody. One day, he chewed out his only child really harshly, so harshly that she killed herself. In punishment, the Great Spirit took the man's voice and put it in this drum, which he had just made."

"Could it be the guy was just so upset about his daughter that he lost the will to speak?" Timmy asked. 

The brunette shrugged. "Possibly. They say that whoever

plays the drum is in danger of losing his voice that same day."

"Well, I can still talk," Timmy pointed out.

"The curse only takes effect if the player says cruel things to a loved one. Things that make that loved one want to curl up and die. Nothing's ever happened to me or my bandmates; but still, on nights we use it in our act, everybody's always careful not to lose their temper." She chuckled at his superstition. "By the way, my name's Isleen. I'm play tambourine for the Cowboys and Indians. What's your name?"

"Timmy."

"Cool. Are you the Innocents' drummer?"

Timmy nodded. "Yeah."

"I always like the drummer best," Isleen confessed. "Tom‑Tom, Sunny, and all them. They just always seem to be the grooviest member." Timmy smiled obligingly. "What do you say between shows we get to know each other better?"

Timmy shrugged. He wasn't interested, but this was a polite way of not saying yes or no. He went backstage to join his

bandmates.

Danny was the only one in the green room. "Hey, who was that

girl?" he asked curiously.

To cranky Timmy, he sounded suspicious. "Isleen," he snapped

in reply.

"Isleen who?"

"I dunno! She's the tambourine player."

"So, she likes drummers, I heard."

"Yeah. Why you wanna know?"

"Hey, take it easy, babe. I'm just curious."

"Yeah, you always are," Timmy muttered.

There was a pause, then Danny asked apprehensively, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't need you being my watchdog. She spoke to me."

"Hey, all right, all right. If I haven't been all that swell to you lately‑‑"

"You haven't been."

"What's eating you?"

"Look, I'm tired of you watching me, always asking

questions. I still think you were never convinced that Cindy's

baby wasn't mine."

"Hey, I believe you!"

"And Beatrix! I slipped up and kissed her and you treat me like we got bent. Meanwhile, if the three of us say anything about your being out with girls all the time, it's, 'Don't be jealous.'" 

"Hey, I'm sorry, Timmy, I know I was too harsh. I‑I‑‑I'm sorry, okay?" He knew tears were coming, and embarrassed, he quickly eased himself out of the room. 

Patrick entered. "Hey, what's with Danny?"

Timmy grunted, sitting down on the couch. He could hear

applause and the Cowboys and Indians' act starting. Timmy sat up,

wide‑eyed, when he realized that if the curse was true, he had just brought it upon himself. He deserved it, too.

Matt burst in a few minutes later, throwing Timmy an accusing glare. "Danny doesn't want to go on stage," he announced. "I just hope he comes out and changes his mind before the Indians' act is over."

Timmy didn't say anything. Patrick looked shocked, but didn't interfere.

"Danny's sorry about all that happened before with that girl who forced herself on you," Matt continued. "You know that, don't you?" Timmy sniffed, and met Matt's gaze with apologetic eyes. "I just hope our act goes okay, with all our friendship songs and all."

Timmy cast his eyes upon the floor, his head held in his hands.

"You're gonna be able to sing okay, aren't you?"

Timmy shook his head.

"I don't think Danny will be able to either. I'll do all the songs tonight. Patrick, you back me up."

"All right," Patrick agreed.

"If you feel good enough to sing, let me know later," Matt

said to Timmy.

The drummer looked like he was trying to say something, but no sound came from his mouth.

"What's that?" Matt asked, leaning closer.

Timmy repeated his silent lip movement.

"Cat got your tongue or something?"

Timmy nodded, clutching his throat.

"You can't talk?" Patrick asked, and Timmy nodded. "You

really can't talk?"

Danny entered, in a state of regained composure. "I'll go

on." He looked at Timmy. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Timmy nodded, and hoped that Danny read lips.

"What's that?" Danny asked.

"Oh, he can't talk," Matt explained.

"Can't talk?"

"He's lost his voice," Patrick said. "But I think he said, 'I'm sorry, too.'"

The Cowboys and Indians passed through, having finished their set. Mr. Stone peeked in. "You're on." Timmy sighed; that he could do softly, and got up from the couch.

II

"That was great!" Isleen complimented after the show.

Matt pulled her over and whispered, "That was our worst

performance ever."

"You must be bragging. That was just fine."

Matt was still ashamed. Timmy's powerful, angst‑ridden

singing voice had been absent, and his drum playing lacked luster. Danny had managed to do some backing vocals, but seemed like he'd rather be elsewhere. The audience was polite; they didn't know

what they were missing.

"I noticed you didn't sing any back‑up," Isleen said to Timmy. "They rarely let Tom‑Tom sing, too. Do you ever get the chance to sing?"

Timmy nodded emphatically.

"He usually sings lead," Matt informed her.

"Well, why didn't you sing tonight?"

Timmy picked the Indian drum off the prop table which now sat backstage. Isleen's eyes went wide as the artifact was handed to her. "No, it couldn't be! Why, that curse is just legend."

"Curse? What curse?" Matt demanded.

"The curse that says‑‑" she began, then turned back to Timmy. "You said something you regretted?"

Timmy nodded sadly, and glanced at Danny.

Isleen followed his gaze. "Well, I don't know what he said to you, and it isn't my business, but he'll never speak another unkind word to you ever again‑‑or a kind word."

"Wait a minute," Matt broke in. "When he lost his temper with Danny, that drum brought a curse on him?"

"Yes," Isleen answered. "Apparently, it doesn't work if you play it one night, and lose your temper some other day. I know

that because me and my bandmates have argued plenty of times before, and all of us can still talk."

"But how long does the curse last?" Matt wondered.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I hate to say it, but

apparently the original cursed Indian was never able to speak

again."

Patrick asked a question similar to an earlier one voiced by the drummer when we still had a voice. "Could it be you're just so upset about Danny that you've lost the will to speak?"

The expression on Timmy's face approved this as a possibility. Danny grabbed hold of his bandmate's hands. "Timmy, we're still friends, no matter what. I've said mean things to you lately. We're both sorry and we're both even. Can we just get this over with‑‑It's been going on and off again since the incident on the beach. We've both been doing things to tick each other off lately, but I'm not mad at you now for anything that's happened. And I don't think you've been mad at me all this time, either."

Timmy shook his head. He had simply been in a foul mood

earlier. He had been more worried that Danny hadn't forgiven him.

Matt, Patrick, and Isleen were still present, avoiding

interference out of respect. Danny and Timmy were aware only of each other. Timmy threw his arms around Danny and they held on for a few moments, Timmy trying to communicate through the warmth of his arms all that he could not vocalize. When they released one another, Danny said, "Please try and talk."

Timmy obviously tried, his lips moving but his face showing

strain. It was just as well. He didn't want to hear his unkind voice.

"Guess that cur‑sed drum has no sympathy for repentance," Matt observed.

Danny squeezed Timmy's hand. "It'll be all right."

"I loved his voice," Patrick mourned.

The Four Innocents returned to the stage at twenty past ten,

again after the Cowboys and Indians. This time Danny also took turns at lead vocals.

"Why didn't the drummer boy sing tonight?" Mr. Stone asked

before the boys went home. "It was his voice that got you hired." "He can't speak," Patrick replied.

"Oh, he's got laryngitis?" the owner guessed. "Musta hit

kinda suddenly. Okay, I understand. Get well soon, though."

III

Matt shook his drummer awake. "How we doin' this morning, Timmy?"

The cursed boy went to reply out of habit, remembered he

couldn't talk, and no sound emanated from his mouth.

"Oh, well, we tried." Matt sighed.

Timmy turned over and went back to sleep.

"Still suffering from laryngitis, huh?" Mr. Stone asked the

Four Innocents at closing. "Well, you're scheduled for one more night. If that boy can sing again by tomorrow night, I may extend your gig through next week."

"Oh, I hope he gets better, sir," Matt said. "But these

things can't be rushed."

The next morning, Danny received a call from Isleen. "I was talking with Richie--he's the one who bought the drum in the first place," she told him. "He said, get this, it's just a cheap souvenir and he made up the whole myth thing himself."

Danny thanked her, and then realized the truth. All of his bandmates were still asleep. He shook Timmy. "Let's go to the park, you and me."

Timmy raised his eyebrows, looking resentful at his dream

having been interrupted.

"Yeah, come on, it'll be groovy. You and I should spend some

more time as a pair. Remember the fun we used to have, playing

partners in crime? We haven't done that for awhile now."

Timmy smiled, and got up.

Timmy and Danny strolled along the wooded path of Lake Francis Park. Timmy pointed to a strawberry blond sitting on a park bench in front of the tree‑lined area. She wore a pantsuit and had her right arm resting on the bench back and her left hand held a drink. The boys noticed her sigh.

"She looks lonely," Danny remarked. "Let's cheer her up."

"Excuse me, miss," Danny said, accosting the girl and bringing her attention his way. Timmy approached quietly from the other direction. "Miss What's‑your‑name?"

"Rose," she told him, looking at him curiously while she

lifted her left arm up to sip her soda. Timmy gently placed a

bouquet of freshly picked flowers on her lap, then left for the wooded area. "Who are you?"

"Rose, I am Ammon the Great, magician extraordinaire‑‑and with one snap of my fingers I can present you with the gift of flowers." He snapped his fingers.

"Yes?" Rose wondered aloud, gazing at him expectantly. Danny gestured grandly at her lap. "How'd these get here?" she cried in amazement, picking them up with her right hand.

Danny chuckled. "Magicians never tell their secrets."

Rose stared at the flowers in bewilderment, and when she

looked up, the stranger had disappeared.

Timmy and Danny ran down the nature trail, the latter

laughing. They left the path again for the lawn around the pond, and lay down in the grass.

"That was fun, wasn't it, Timmy?"

Timmy smiled.

"I think I shall miss your voice," Danny remarked. "We'll all get used to it, of course. I mean, you're still you and we love you. But it's a shame you're mute when you don't have to be‑‑the drum isn't cursed and there's nothing the matter with your vocal cords, throat, or anything." Danny sat up. "I know what your problem is, babe. You're punishing yourself. I've forgiven you, but you haven't forgiven yourself. You've taken an ascetic vow to silence, you have." He leaned over Timmy's reclined form. "Well, I think you're wonderful, our relationship is better than ever, and there's no need for this to continue. Now what do you think about that?"

Perhaps Danny was right, but yet it seemed he could not force his words to have sound. "It's no use," Timmy protested. "I just can't‑‑"

"You just can't what?" Danny demanded, laughing, as Timmy sat bolt upright.

"I just can't stop laughing," Timmy replied, joining Danny in

bursts of chuckles.

They leaped to their feet and danced about. "I can laugh, I

can sing, I can talk about anything," Timmy sang. "Thanks,

Danny. Now that I think about it, I was punishing myself, and

fooling myself into believing it was the curse."

"Let's hurry home and tell Matt and Patrick. Better yet, why

don't you tell them?"

“Can I ask you one thing, Danny?” Timmy questioned timidly while they were still in the park.

“Sure! Go ahead!”

“After Matt brought me back home that day, when you and Patrick came in, he hugged me, and Matt hugged me earlier, but you hardly had two words for me. Why was that? I thought you were mad.”

“No, no. I guess I was preoccupied with the engine to our van and how much money it might cost us. I thought everything would just revert to normal anyway. Why, do you need a hug?”

“You gave me one yesterday.”

“Well, here, have an extra one. On me.”

For a moment, they rested in each other’s arms—that is, until Oliver showed up out of nowhere. “Whoa!”

Timmy and Danny, annoyed, jerked apart.

Oliver mimicked scribbling notes on a stenopad. “Note to self: Innocents are gay. Not that I didn’t know that already.”

Danny and Timmy chased him away.

“Let’s get back to the pad for real now,” Danny said, after giving up.

“I guess we should save open displays of affection for private places,” Timmy philosophized.

“Never mind trying to live up to the Fig Leaves’ standards for us,” Danny chided. “C’mon, we’ve got to tell Matt and Patrick the good news.”

Backstage at the Scarlet Macaw Club, the boys saw Isleen amongst her bandmates. "Isleen, I want to thank you for all the help you've given us," Timmy told her.

"Oh, you're welcome," she said, busy lacing her Indian boots. Suddenly, she glanced around. "You said that, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Timmy replied cheerfully.

"Outasite!" she cried, leaping up to cast her arms around him. Mr. Stone walked in to see how both bands were doing. "Timmy's feeling much better tonight," Matt announced.

"So he can sing?"

"Boy, can he ever sing!" Patrick exclaimed.

"Great! He'll be singing all next week, too."


	7. A Sudden Draft

A SUDDEN DRAFT

I

Problems were over; that's what Timmy had thought. He was no longer forced to continue his reluctant romance with Beatrix. The valley in his and Danny's relationship had been passed through, and the two friends were now on a higher peak than ever before. Matt was strong and healthy, showing no signs of having become addicted to the drugs he had been doped up with. The Four Innocents had enjoyed a successful week at the Scarlet Macaw, and were into week number two. They were a happy rock'n'roll band once again.

Feeling cheerful, Timmy went out to get the mail. He was hopeful even, thinking he might have gotten that figurine he ordered.

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the curb, silent in shock. It was unreal, if Timmy denied it, maybe it would fade away. He forced open his eyes to look again at the corporeal draft card clutched in his clammy fingers. No use, it was still there. He growled aloud in his angst. "Say this isn't so, **please** , Lord, please, don't do this to me!" A cry escaped his lips. "Especially not now..."

Guilt then washed over him, for he knew he was asking for a release from a duty which scores of young men, just as reluctant as him, had had to go through with anyway. He also knew, that although his was a gentle soul, his reason for not wanting to go was not rooted in pacifist idealism. He just could not leave his friends.

He was not conscious of how much time passed as he moped at the mailbox. He was suddenly aware of a presence behind him. "Hey, Timmy, is something the matter?" Danny asked. "I thought you were going out to get the mail."

"My life is over," Timmy announced somberly, not turning around to look at his friend.

Danny knelt by him. "Your life is over? Come on, what makes you say that?"

Without a word, Timmy handed the card over. "Aw, no!" Danny exclaimed. "You've been drafted."

"It's the end of the Four Innocents as we know it."

"They can't do that!" Danny denied. "Nothing's gonna split us up, not war or famine or pestilence or anything."

The news had been broken to Matt and Patrick. Timmy lay on the psychiatrist couch. His three bandmates were all present in the den, but each seemed to be carrying on his own one-on-one conversation with the drummer.

"Maybe I can enlist with you," Matt suggested, whispering. "I can't say let's all four of us sign up, cause I don't want to get any more of us in this than I have to. Leave Danny and Patrick safe at home, at least they'll still have each other, and the two of us can be together."

"Yeah, but how do you know they wouldn't assign us to different regiments?" Timmy debated. "Besides, I know you don't really want to go."

"But you'll need me."

"That's true."

Patrick approached next. "Maybe you can say you're a pacifist."

"I dunno," Timmy told him. "I mean, I can't imagine myself killing anyone, but somehow I feel like that would be weaseling my way out. Man, it's damned if I do, damned if I don't." He sat up, addressing all three. "I'll be gone a few years, I suppose. I may not come back. If I do come back, I ain't gonna be the same. I'll have blood on my hands."

"Well, there's still a chance you'll be rejected," Danny offered. "Maybe you'll fail the physical or one of the exams or something."

"You guys won't be the Four Innocents for a while," Timmy realized. "I mean, you'll still be a band, but a trio."

"I don't think I can handle drums yet, Timmy," Danny remarked.

"I'll find you a replacement," their drummer said, standing up.

"No one could replace you!" Danny objected.

II

A hammock and relaxation go together, but as Danny looked out to the porch, he saw that Timmy's body was tense. He obviously wanted to be able to relax, but his burdens would not let him. Danny headed outside, picking up Patrick's acoustic as he passed over the bandstand.

"Hello," Timmy acknowledged, still staring into the sky.

"Hey, mate," Danny returned, sitting on the railing. He strummed the guitar gently.

Timmy soaked in the stirringly beautiful progression of chords, and the lapping of the waves on the shore. If he were not so troubled, it would be just like being on an exotic vacation on some island paradise. "You're getting pretty good," he told Danny finally.

"Well, Patrick knows his stuff when it comes to guitar. And if he can't explain something, Matt will."

"If you're getting that good at guitar, I'm sure you'll have no problem with drums."

"You haven't given me a lesson in a few months." He stopped strumming. "And I haven't practiced. Too many problems, what with Matt and all..."

"Better get back into practice. But I'm sure you haven't forgotten. All you need is a brief refresher, and it will all come back. Like riding a bike." He sat up. "I suppose we better get to it now. I haven't time to procrastinate."

Danny was by the hammock in a second, pushing Timmy back down. "No, no, you came out here to relax and you haven't gotten what you needed. If I need to learn the drums, I will." He leaned the guitar against one of the hitching posts and climbed into the hammock. Once securely beside Timmy, he reached down and brought the guitar up, also. Being a southpaw, he held the guitar so that the thin end hung out over empty space. He played again, trying to make it as smooth and soothing as he could.

Timmy listened in with grateful ears, and envisioned himself actually on that island vacation. He pushed all thoughts of going to war to the back of his mind.

Through with a couple of songs, Danny glanced at his friend. His eyes were now closed, his tension had eased, and the rhythm of his breathing suggested sleep. Danny set the guitar back upon the porch. Placing a hand over his friend's heart, he vowed, "I'm not gonna let them take you from us." Then he nestled up to Timmy's side, and tried to join him in cathartic sleep.

The rocking of the hammock shook Danny into a dazed consciousness. Timmy was getting up. Danny shut his eyes again, then felt a hand playfully toss his hair. He looked up and saw Timmy smiling at him in a way that expressed gratitude. The troubled drummer then turned away. "'Bye."

"Goodbye," Danny returned sleepily, then sat up, the hammock swinging violently with his sudden motion. "Where you going?"

"I've got to get out of here, man," Timmy replied, not bothering to look back as he made his way down the coast.

Danny ran up to him. "Out of here? Why?"

"Oh, I don't mean home, I mean my life."

"And how do you suppose you're going to go about doing that?"

Timmy shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I don't know."

Danny continued to follow on his heels. Timmy stopped. "Danny, go home, I'm not gonna kill myself. I just need some time by myself to think about things."

III

Timmy walked down the beach, passing in back of Francene and Amity's house. Francene saw him, and ran up to him, tagging his shoulder. "Timmy, don't do it, man."

"Do what?"

"Go to war."

"I don't want to. Do you think I want to?"

"Of course not, and that's another reason why you mustn't go."

"What do you mean, he mustn't go?" a rough voice demanded. Mr. Garvey, a wrench in hand, walked out of the girls' house. "He can't leave his country in a lurch."

"And he can't leave his country to go fight in this wicked war," Francene argued.

"Look, girly--" Mr. Garvey walked closer, carrying the wrench as though it were a gun.

"Don't 'girly' me."

"You kids today ain't got any respect for America. You love your freedom, don't you?"

"Of course, I love my freedom."

"Well, freedom comes at a price."

"But why does that price have to be death?"

"Because--"

"And what about Timmy's freedom to live his own life? What kind of freedom is that, when somebody you don't even know sends you off to die and doesn't even give you a choice about it?" "Look, you guys, I gotta be heading off," Timmy said meekly.

"Timmy, don't go," Francene demanded. "Don't fight in this evil war."

"Don't listen to her!" Garvey ordered. "You have a duty as a patriot and an American citizen to--"

"To die!" Francene interrupted. "He has to go off to the slaughter just like some sheep."

"Just be glad you're a woman or they'd send you off, too."

"I am glad I'm a woman--"

"Listen, you two¼" Timmy said, mumbling.

“Timmy, you’ll get killed!” Francene cried, tears leaking. “You’re so fragile—I know you’ll get killed!”

“Knock it off with the crocodile tears!” Mr. Garvey ordered, unmoved. “You should be crying tears of pride.”

“Tears of pride?” Francene repeated incredulously. “That bullets tore him apart as soon as he stepped off the chopper?”

“I appreciate your, er, confidence in me,” Timmy began, more forcefully, so that they would listen. "This is really hard for me. I don't believe in killing but I also believe in giving unto Caesar's what is Caesar's, if you know what I mean."

"Timmy, you've got to take a stand."

"At least the girl's right about that," Garvey said. "You've got to make up your mind."

"There's not that much I can do. I'm going down to get my examinations and all that, but I just hope I don't pass."

"What if you do?" Francene asked.

"I don't know. I don't want to think that far ahead yet. By the way, how did you know?"

"I was over getting the rent when they told me," Mr. Garvey explained. "That little friend of yours is especially down on the idea."

"He should be--" Francene began.

"But he does come from another country," Mr. Garvey said simply.

IV

"Where you been so long, Danny?" Matt wondered. He and Patrick were jamming on their guitars, and Timmy had not returned home from his exams. "If Timmy gets home soon, we don't have to bail out on Mr. Stone."

Danny caught his breath, then said, "I was thinking, even if Timmy doesn't get sent to war, it might happen to one or all of the rest of us. That's why I had to get things taken care of so that doesn't happen."

"What are we, moving to Canada?" Matt asked.

"No. You remember how we've helped Bland and the Double Eye Bee before?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's doing a duty for our country, too. Bland says we can all be signed on as their official contacts in the youth counter-culture."

"It can be dangerous," Matt remembered. "But not as dangerous as war. Good thinking, Danny."

Timmy ran in. "Guys! Guess what?"

"We're Double Eye Bee agents?" Patrick returned.

Timmy paused, squinting. "No." He hadn't heard about that yet. He stood on one foot, holding the other one in his hand. "I ran back to tell you the news as fast as my feet could carry me."

Patrick had at least part of the news figured out. "So they're not sending you?"

Timmy grinned. "That's right."

"Why?"

“They think I’m gay!”

"Well, did you tell them you’re not?" Matt asked.

"Being gay?” Patrick wondered naively. “What’s that got to do with anything?"

Timmy shrugged. "I dunno, but they won't take you if you’re gay, and I'm just grateful."

Matt crossed his arms in mock indignation. "Well, I'm not. We’re supposed to be celibate, not gay."

“You didn’t tell them about our time on the hammock together, did you?” Danny demanded.

“Well, as a matter of fact—ʺ Timmy began, then burst into laughter.

Feeling great relief, they all laughed, and Timmy and Danny joined Matt and Patrick in their jam session.

“I couldn’t imagine you with a crew cut and a gun anyway,” Danny remarked. “Heck, I couldn’t imagine any of us like that.”


End file.
